


kinktober '19

by momokos



Category: Original Work
Genre: (though its more medical than play.....), (unsafe driving indulgence), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Aphrodisiacs, Belly Kink, Body Worship, Car Sex, Choking, Corsetry, Crossdressing, Drug Use, Dubious Consent, Emetophilia, Food Play, Forced Crossdressing, Glory Hole, Gun play, Hand Jobs, Humiliation, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Inflation, Kinktober 2019, Knife Play, Lactation, Latex, Lingerie, Macro/Micro, Masturbation, Medical Play, Mommy Kink, Mpreg, Multi, Omorashi, Pregnancy, Scent Kink, Sex Work, Shibari, Showers, Spanking, Stockholm Syndrome, Stockings, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Stripping, Stuffing, Tentacles, Vivisection, Vomiting, Weight Gain, Wetting, collaring, feederism, uniform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2020-11-15 09:57:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 31
Words: 34,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20864354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/momokos/pseuds/momokos
Summary: just.... a whole bunch of me being horny for my ocs. sorry. weird kinks ahoy





	1. Broket (Inflation)

**Author's Note:**

> day one: inflation
> 
> not your traditional kinda inflation? ig? 
> 
> (also the actual kink takes a bit to get into bc i was so excited to write about my got damn sw oc)
> 
> valee belongs to @babygrinch1399

Broket had had it up to here with the Outer Realm planets. He'd been deployed to them a handful of times while still a Padawan under his Master. Cup'Zebrr took it in stride most of the times, himself coming from a natural jungle planet so he was used to back water places like these. 

Broket, on the other hand, spent his entire life up until then on Coruscant. The Clone Wars was his first taste of the outside world and while he enjoyed learning and experiencing most new things; these were things that didn't need to be accompanied by sweltering heat and uncultivated forests filled with who knows what. 

It had been years since then, and the memories of his Master leading him through the thick wild greens made his dual-hearts twinge with a pang of pain. The Zabrak shook his head, pulling the hood of his poncho over his horned skull, trying to will the bittersweet nostalgia away. 

He was currently trying to scout down someone he heard about through the Network, one of his fellow Jedi that survived Order 66- one of his crechemates. Apparently they were last seen on this very planet that he was carefully treading through. Many Jedi didn't keep close contact with one another. There was so very few of them left but it was a dangerous and foolish idea for them all to stick together, for if they were found that was the end of them all. So not hearing from them in long while wasn’t much for concern.

What prompted his search was, a few weeks ago while trailing after Valee in an underground Black Market, he spotted a very familiar lightsaber for sale. One that his old creche mate has boasted about for weeks, since it was so superiorly designed to everyone else in their clan that had been yet to be picked by a Master. 

So here he was, the kaf coloured male wasn’t even sure that this planet had a name. All he had was it’s coordinates and a brief description. Apparently there wasn’t much to worry about on planet but he wasn’t so sure about that.

He was on high alert because the young man was nothing if not always a little bit paranoid of his surroundings. He was more intune with the Living Force rather than Unifying. Which meant that he was acutely aware of just how dangerous his surroundings could be in situations like these. 

Broket’s hand rested on the hilt of his saber, the nape of his neck tickled with anticipation as he sensed…. something nearby. He took a few more cautious steps and pushed away a curtain of vines with his free hand; taking in the sight of a form on the ground. His mouth opened as he rushed the final few steps to close the distance. He could feel the Force crackle slightly as he made his way there but as soon as he arrived, he was dismayed to see it was definitely his friend, their corpse was unsightly and he couldn’t look at it too long, even if he had seen things that now haunted him when he closed his eyes. It didn’t help numb him for this, it was yet another thing to add to the collection. They were most certainly dead, no living person could be left in a state so festered and decayed. 

So why did he feel something around him?

His eyes widened.

He turned around fast as lightning, his saber drawn and ignited as his amber eyes darted around trying to catch sight of what he sensed behind him, maybe this was what had been the end of his old friend? Maybe it was a creature that could cloak itself in its surroundings? His emerald blade sizzled in the air and he steeled his shoulders. It was somewhere in front of him but he just couldn’t se- 

Buzz! 

His left hand let go of the blade and reached up to his neck, smacking the seemingly bug like creature away from skin. He looked down at it’s dead form, no longer sensing the whispers of danger from the force at this very moment. He looked over to the decaying corpse, maybe they had an allergic reaction? Because other than the extreme foliage, this creature was the only form of life he’s seen on this planet so far. He clipped his weapon to his belt and crouched down, saying a quiet, quick prayer for yet another fallen brother before sitting in a silent meditation. 

Time passed on and he broke out of his trance to see the night sky starting to peek out in the horizon, or what could be seen of it from over the treetops anyway. The Zabrak wasn’t sure if he had simply spent a long time thinking or if this damn planet’s cycle was accelerated. He stood up, and even though it was not the Jedi way, he shed a tear. There was no Jedi ways anymore, not with so few left. The image of their body would be burnt into Broket’s mind. (Like his Masters, like his friends, everyone he knew from the temple, like-) He scooped up the fallen bug in a plasta pouch and stowed it away on his belt then promptly he stepped away, ready to go back to his ship and return back to Valee. 

“Goodbye, my old friend.”

As he made the short journey back, his head started to feel like it was it spinning, he lurched for the nearby tree, his hands gripping onto the foreign bark for support as he took a deep breath. 

He had a med kit in his ship, it wasn’t far from here. If he was still feeling ill, he could just simply pop a bacta pill and get on with it, he urged himself. He went back up and took a slower, more careful pace, thanking the Force that this planet wasn’t breeming with Predators. He’d be an easy target right now. One of his hands palmed his abdomen through his baggy clothes, feeling a painful churn in his insides. Broket exhaled audibly as he caught sight of the metal of his ship, gleaming a shiny silver through the greens. 

His species had a better tolerance for pain than most, but he’d never felt anything like this before. The last few steps before he could clutch the rail of the ramp to get access to his ship were borderline bruta for the sickly male. He closed the door before him and staggered to the cockpit, inputting the commands for autopilot and collapsing in the chair. 

His head fell back heavily as he hiccuped, the odd churning sensation even more discernible. With a groan, he heaved himself up and reached for the medkit, taking out a few pills and swallowing them dry. 

It would still take a while for them to kick in, so he was lost in his thoughts for the time being. Looking out the window and clutching both his arms protectively around his middle. His friend didn’t have any access to medical supplies most likely, thus their passing. His neck itched where it had been bitten. He relinquished his hold around his aching stomach to pull out the bug.

Broket looked at the creepy little thing as the ship left the planets atmosphere, good riddance. Pressing a button to unlock the top of a glass cylinder, he dropped the creature within and promptly closed it once again, then activated the scanner. A moan passed his lips that turned into a burp, gas taking it’s chance to escape from his throat. His eyes widened as his cheeks reddened, there was no one around to witness that but he was embarrassed nonetheless, usually if he really had to do that he could at the very least muffle it into his hands. His brow knotted and his eyes slipped shut as he waited with all the patience of the ex-Jedi Padawan that he was for the results. Of the pills or the scanner? Which either came first. 

Scanner was the winner, it turned out, his eyes cracked open as he heard the squeaky little beep, indicating that details were found. 

“Now, what are you, little creature?” He spoke, wanting to fill the silence even if it was a futile attempt due to there not being any one present to, well, respond. He drank in all the information that was provided, thank the Force his intuition with the pills was the right response. If he hadn’t he would have, well, met a worse fate. 

That didn’t mean everything was going to be okay, however, regardless of the fact he was going to end up okay, he was still having to suffer the side effects, it seemed. He gulped. Possible ones included; Nausea, fatigue, swelling, itchiness, difficulty breathing- His stomach gave another painful churn and he looked down, lifting his baggy poncho and tunic out of the way to be greeted with the sight of his usually trim and toned middle looking true to word, swollen out by an inch or two. 

He hated the outer realm. 

This wasn’t the type of swelling that would be Broket’s first thought to accompany a bug bite, but that was weird alien foreign creatures for you. He whined as he brought his hands down to the taut skin, his hands cool against the warmed surface. It was actually surprising just how much discomforting this was but that was just his luck. 

The Zabrak heaved himself up off the chair with great effort, moaning at the motion not agreeing with him at all. He checked to make sure the autopilot route was alright, he was taking a quiet path that hopefully wouldn’t lead him into any more trouble. He stumbled to the corner of the cockpit and sunk down to the ground. He pulled his poncho out from over his head and undid his belt which was starting to dig into him, unusual for him but he dumped them next to him, his tunics joining them not long after. He flopped over on his side, his horned head supported by the fabrics. His hands tried to rub his gut, attempting to soothe it as it let out audible groans, parallel to the ones coming from his own mouth. He could almost swear he could feel it distend by the minute underneath his palms. 

“Ugh-” Hic! “-so much for there being nothing to worry about…” He whined pitifully as the medication was finally taking effect, leaving him somewhat tired. Maybe getting some rest would be for the best? It meant that he could possibly sleep through this pain and hopefully be fine by the time he returned back to base. 

He yawned, his fangs gleaming in the artificial lighting of the ship. His vision got more and more bleary and dark as he nodded off, hands still clenched around his stomach.

-

The first thing to occur to him as he woke up was that his comlink was beeping. Secondly he was still in considerable pain, his forehead shimmering with sweat. 

Third, there was no way his stomach was that big when he fell asleep. His jaw dropped as he dipped his head down to look at it. He’d never had an up close look at someone carrying children but he imagined this must have been what they’d feel like. “A-ah!” He exclaimed as he ran his palms over the surface of it. Eyes were wet as he shook slightly. It was so… round. And the tattoos that went down to his hip bones warped around it. 

The stark contrast between that and the rest of his toned lean body was astonishing, he was transfixed by the strangeness of it all, like he had a waterfruit under his skin rather than what he guessed was gases and fluid? The data scanner didn’t exactly have all the details. Speaking of, was that what was making that noise?

Oh right, his com was still ringing.

“Where are you, kid?” Valee’s voice spoke out, slightly staticy through the receiver. “You were meant to be here an hour ago.”

“I-I’m on my-” He paused, a tiny burp once again forcing its way as he spoke. He froze with shame. “Sorry- I’m on my way.” He apologised quickly, he set the comlink on the ground in front of him and stretched up slightly, seeing familiar surroundings out the window. The action caused a bolt of pain to shoot through him, a little pained keening sound coming out of him so he lay back down as gently as he could on his makeshift nest. 

“....What’s going on over there?” She asked over the sound of gunfire from her end. He rubbed his distended tummy with a frown, knowing that she was probably in some kind of fight and phoning him up, regardless, like it was no big deal. 

“Nothing! I- Uh. Just encountered some of the local wildlife…” He inhaled. “And I'm kinda suffering for it.” He jumped in his skin as he heard a considerably loud shot.

“Please watch w-what you’re- urh- what you’re doing!” He urged, knowing that she can handle herself completely but he was already stressed. 

“I’ll be back soon.” He said, feeling yet another sharp pang as he hung up. She was actually doing something important and didn’t need to hear him making unbecoming noises because he let himself get bit by a backwater planet bug. 

He bunched his entire body around his rounded middle as he couldn’t bare it anymore, a pained sob tore itself from his lungs as his shoulders shook. It felt like it was growing again, pushing out an extra inch as he shook his head trying to rub the surface to bring any kind of relief to no success, he could feel the skin stretching thing and the only comfort was that this wasn’t going to be fatal but… it felt like it. It really truly felt like it. 

For the second time that trip, his vision blacked out.

-

“Broket! Your ass better be in there or I’m gonna be mad as shit!” Valee called out as she opened up the ship doors, her shoes clicking against the metal flooring with each step. The white haired woman stopped as she entered the cockpit, her light gaze searching the room until she came across the passed out zabrak on the floor. 

She crouched down, taking note of the tear tracks on his face and the….. Stomach.   
That looked downright painful, no wonder her little guy was acting off earlier. So that explains what he meant by suffering the side effects earlier. How the fuck did that happen?

“Damn, what kinda weird alien bullshit…” She trailed off, trying to shake him awake by the shoulder. The only response was pained whine. She sighed. Her protege looked like he’d swallowed an Alderaani Beach Ball and was passed the fuck out. 

Great. 

She was thankful for his small stature as he slid her hands underneath the male and lifted him up, the tummy didn’t seem to add any extra weight, so she wagered a guess it was just extreme gas or something. Weird ass aliens. 

As they were making their way out one of his eyes blearily cracked open, looking around hazily. Valee noticed immediately and spoke up. “How in the kriffin’ hell did that happen?” She questioned the Jedi. 

It took him a moment to absorb the question and what in his currently sickly brain was a completely coherent answer merely came out as; “Bug….”


	2. Oscar (Medical Play)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day two: ass worship / begging/ medical play / watersports
> 
> kinda messed up the assignment here because i dont really think theres Any 'play' of the medical variety in this. oops. just me hurting my doctor boy . also lil bit of fluff at the end.
> 
> garfield belongs to @babygrinch1399

He couldn’t move.

It was like all his limbs were weighed down with stones and his veins shot full of ice. 

Oscar could feel his heart pumping like a jackhammer in his chest, the sound of it echoing all the way up to his ears. His brown eyes looked around him but the room he was in was mysteriously empty. That or it was just too… dark to see anything. 

He felt a cold chill on his skin, goosebumps cascading their way down his long frame. He didn’t have any clothes on, just a paper thin blue sheet over his bottom half. 

He attempted to even just wriggle his fingers, his toes. To turn his head even ever so slightly only to be denied by the icy cold feeling of failure. 

He heard the sound of soft footsteps entering the room, the click of a door as it opened and shut just out of his viewpoint- right behind him. 

He tried to call out to whoever just opened the door but all that could escape his mouth was a soft inhale. His breath hitched. Just was going on? 

The steps grew louder as who ever it was came even closer, he caught a glimpse of blue and white scrubs- A doctor? Had he been injured? Just what had happened? Oscar worried to himself. The mysterious figure took the final few steps before he was finally in Oscar’s line of sight. Tall. Fair. With a familiar face. 

His face. 

The thing wearing his face looked down straight into his eyes, brown meeting brown, as it pulled the latex gloves onto its hands with a loud snap. 

Oscar started sweating, or at least he would if he could. He wasn’t very sure of the state of his body right now. 

It’s hands drew themselves all over his still body, maintaining prolonged contact, occasionally it would lift a limb up to get a closer look at something or another, the feeling of the rubbery latex was something that he was used to, he wore the gloves often enough, but right now? It was downright chilling. 

His breath hitched as those hands inched their way under the poor attempt of protection that the sheet offered, pulling it away to rest at the bottom of the table, leaving him completely exposed. He saw his own face portray an expression of muted curiosity as it continued on touching him up like a slab of meat, not even sparing his… privates. He wasn’t sure if his own face would white from fright or red from embarrassment at this current situation. 

Its hands stopped. It seemed to deem itself done with that, with a nod of its head (his head?) it stepped over to the selection of tools. It came away with a marker. 

It’s stolen hands marked all over Oscar’s fair skin with dotted lines. Marks the young man recognised from numerous handymedown medical textbooks he had read over the years. He gulped as it switched out the marker for a scalpel, shiny and gleaming in the sickly lighting. 

Slowly its hand descended.

He felt the nauseating pain as the blade pierced his soft, freckled skin and sliced. He wanted to screech, he wanted to thrash, he wanted to do anything beyond just lay there as the knife started the process of dissection. 

It made one long clean cut going down from his sternum to his navel. Then two horizontal lines parallel with his collar bones. It held the blade in one hand and with the other, it began the process of separating the skin from the muscle. 

He tried to squeeze his eyes shut but like everything else he attempted he was met with no results. His chocolate eyes were forced to watch as his red insides were put on show, slowly and meticulously it pulled the layer of protection away. He caught flashes of pearly white imbedded deep within crimson as his vision blurred, the room spinning around him. Oh god- were those his bones!?

The only action he could influence was breathing- the sound of his gasping panting breath filled the room, though this imposter didn’t seem to take note. It continued on with its business; until it put its scalpel down for the moment and stopped, seeming to take a moment to inspect its handiwork. 

It buried its hand in his and a whining, keening noise was buried within Oscar’s throat. It was a surprise that it took them so long but tears bubbled up and poured down his pale face as he so desperately wished to do anything to stop this. He ran through a panicked mantra in his head as it continued digging, a sick squelching as it rifled through his guts. 

It’s hands moved up, leaving some of his intestines hanging over by his hip bones, it was wrist deep in him, those eyes peering in as it looked for something. Oscar’s vision blurred again as it grabbed onto something again, but this time it reached out again for the scalpel. 

He black out for a second- maybe longer. Next thing he knew it was depostining something into a nearby disposable dish. His stress rose once again and he so wished to be able to ask just what was that? What just happened? Absolutely NOTHING about this was making sense to the young man and he just wanted to be home. If he was more clear headed right now he’d probably know what was just stolen out of him but he was too woozy and anxious to even think straight now.

Seemingly happy with whatever it took from him, it grabbed a medical stapler from it’s little selection of tools and lifted the flaps of skin that were previously his perfectly fine chest back into their original positions. Oscar saw it’s brow furrow in concentration as it lined the tool up with the incision lines, slowly one by one pressing down and conjoining the pieces of flesh back together with the tiny pieces of metal. It made a disapproving sound at one of them, and grabbed the scalpel again, forcing it underneath the stapel and ripping it upwards- taking flesh with it. Replacing it and finishing the job, it took the dish into its hands and took a step away without even looking at its ‘patient’. 

It walked out and away from the table, the sound of gloves peeling away from skin heard just before it opened the door, closed it, and shut off the lights, leaving Oscar in a complete blanket of darkness. Oh god- oh god oh god oh god oh god-

“Sshhh, shhh- Champ!”

He woke with a start, acutely aware of the big warm hand on his shoulder, shaking him slightly. Oscar jolted up, he was panting as he looked around himself, frame heaving underneath strong palms of his boyfriend. 

“Sshhh, Oscar. Champ, you’re okay- I got ya’” He couldn’t catch his breath. It was dark, probably the middle of the night. He could vaguely make out the comforting outline of Garfield to his left.  
Immediately his own thin lanky arms reached out as he cuddled himself into Garfield’s soft, bulky frame. His curly head dipped underneath the older man’s fuzzy chin. Garfield rubbed small circles into his boyfriend's back as they sat in mostly silence for a minute, the only sound was Oscar’s attempt at stopping himself from ending hyperventilating. 

When Garfield deemed his boys breathing even sounding enough, he spoke up. “Bad dream again?” He enquired tenderly. Oscar poked his head up, still in Garfield’s arms, and nodded with wet eyes. Garfield unwrapped one of his arms to reach up and hold Oscar’s face, his thumb wiping a tear away as he pressed his lips against his forehead. 

“Well, you don’t gotta worry ‘bout that anymore, champ! Because I’ve decided that if this dude right here-” He lifted his hand from Oscar’s cheek to lightly poke his sweaty forehead, “-Keeps on upsetting my good boy he’s gonna have to have a word with me! You let him know that- Got it?” He stated and even though there was barely any lighting to see clearly, Oscar knew he was making a precious face. He answered with something halfway between a laugh and a snuffle. 

“I-I got it.” He answered meekly, feeling so spent but so thankful for Henry’s cheerful presence. 

“Good! Now, c’mon let’s go back to sleep.” The big man yawned and wrapped both arms back round Oscar, planting a big kiss on his lips as he dragged the both of them back down horizontally. “Love ya’, champ.” 

“..love you too.” He mumbled quietly but with all his heart as he nuzzled back up against Henry’s chest and closed his eyes.


	3. Laurent/Devon (Knife Play)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day three: sensory deprivation / temperature play / edge play / knife play 
> 
> dont sign a blood pact with a sexy demon if you're a nerd that's not gonna appreciate the horny appeal of it all

"My dearest Laurent... your deadline is approaching~"

Devon leaned over Laurent's shoulders as he sat at his workstation, her soft chest pressing against his golden curls. He looked up from the glass vials he held in his fingers, the contents within mirroring the pages of the book spread out in front of him. He made a hum on acknowledgement and held out his wrist, azure eyes going back to scanning over the texts. 

She tutted and stood up fully, grabbing the back of the chair and spinning him around. Her clawed hands rested on her hips as she shook her head, black hair cascading down her shoulders. Today she went without her habit and veil- for the pair had no plans to leave the cottage there was no need for her to don her disguise. 

"Now now, My Laurent- That just simply won't do, now will it?" She sighed and stopped Laurent from spinning his chair back around with her heeled foot. "This is a partnership we have- you can't just expect me to do all the work every single time!" Her crimson eyes glared. “You agreed to these terms when you summoned so man up and get to it!” She demanded sternly. 

Laurent gave her a wary look before nodding. “Fine, fine.” Slowly he took off his rings and unbuttoned his silk shirt, depositing them on the wooden flooring without a care. All his necklaces bar one came off not long after, his torso twisted to the side as he put those on the desk behind him. 

Devon chuckled darkly, pulling an ornate ivory knife seemingly out of nowhere. Typical demon. She crawled onto the blonde’s lap and passed the blade to Laurent after gently tracing his skin with the tip, leaning in to just very slightly nibble on his pierced ear. “Go on then, draw the first blood.” She whispered sensually, drawing out her words. 

He sighed, face scrunching up as the Hellhound chewed on his face. “Quit that, I’m doing it.” The witch attempted to get her to back off, waving the blade in her direction. She slid away, still leaning her weight on the blonde but at least now he wasn’t close to being smothered by her very presence. 

Delicately he pressed the knife just underneath his latest batch of tattoos, starting at the pecs and drawing out a smooth careful curve around the natural shape of his chest, wincing as droplets of red spilled out and dripped down. He could practically feel Devon vibrate above him with excitement. He mirrored this cut on the opposite side of his chest- he covered up each of these scars with tattoos so it was easier in the long run to just try and make each side as symmetrical as possible, for his own sake of mind. 

He paused, taking a deep breath- this never got easier when it was it own hands having to do the act. When Devon drew his blood he could preoccupy himself with anything to take his mind off it- but the wretched woman took great pleasure in watching her Laurent do it. 

The novelty of him doing with his own two hands wore off as Devon grew impatient with his speed, her hands lunged out to grab the blade, not even batting an eye as it dug into her hand. 

“Give me that!” She snarled, yellowed canines on show while snatching her weapon back and with great gusto plunged it into his skin and carved. “Pathetic- I really do have to do everything myself.” She rose the knife up to her mouth and licked the blade clean, the corners of her dark lips cocked into a grin. Laurent sighed as she moved onto lapping at the streams of blood that dripped down onto his toned stomach and leaned his head back, better let her get to it. 

Suddenly she rose up as fast as a viper and snatched his face, holding his cheeks in her claws- forcing his blue eyes to stare at her red ones. 

“And what do you think you're doing?” She demanded, getting right up into his face. Silently he stared at her, without an answer to spare. 

“Maybe you’re just a lazy little boy who likes pawning his work off onto others, mhm?” She suggested, dragging the knife up across his fair, pretty face without pressing hard enough to draw blood, yet. “The least you could do is watch-” She edged the knife closer to his eye which he instinctively shut close, “-As I do this.” She was an intimidating sight, that was for sure, with blood mussing up her face and her irritation evident. But he knew she could do no real harm to him, that was part of their deal. But to put it bluntly the man didn’t have the mental capacity to put up with one of the Hellhound’s bad moods right now. 

“Fine-yes. I’ll watch.” He simply spoke, eternally not a man of many words. She patted his golden head with a happy little grin. 

“Good boy!” She responded and got right back to it without wasting a moment. He winced with each stroke but kept his eyes on her handiwork, as every now again she’d glimpse up, savoring the muted pain on his face. 

Seemingly satisfied with how much she’d carved him up for now, she dropped the knife to the ground with a loud clatter (He didn’t chance the glance to make sure but if it landed near his shirt and got the fine silk stained? He was going to act up and annoy the demon any chance he got.)- and rubbed her hands over the ruby red, coating her digits in it and making a mess. Said digits snaked their way up to her toothy maw, her tongue swirling around them, a look of bliss on her face. The process of this repeated itself several times as Laurent sat and watched, quite honestly bored out of his mind. He’d quite like to finish his book right now. 

She stopped sucking on her fingers and leaned over, pressing a kiss into his side burn. “What do you say we get busy, My Laurent?” She smirked and raised her eyebrows. He responded by shoving her off his lap. 

“You’re heavy- my legs are asleep.” He blinked and used his arm to spin his chair back around to his desk. “Not tonight.”

Behind him Devon furrowed her eyebrows and stuck her tongue out at him as she slinked away, off to go find someone else to entertain her for the night.


	4. Reese/Marcy (Spanking)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> marcy belongs to @babygrinch1399 
> 
> girl time!

Reese opened the door to a dark room, not bothering to flip on the switch for the overhead lights- opening the curtains let enough moonlight filter in. 

The middle aged woman hadn't seen her younger partner since early in the morning- schedules conflicting for the day- and a smile few would ever see sneaked onto her dark painted lips at the sight of Marcy sound asleep, the covers wound up tight around her lithe form. 

She began to slide her jacket off her shoulders and join the younger woman before she caught a whiff of something in the air. Her brow furrowed and her smile fell, she pulled the covers up and away from Marcy's frame, revealing her almost naked state (clad in nothing but socks and one of Reese’s old plaid sleep shirts) and the smell of arousal filled the air full force. 

Marcy stirred, her usually messy raven hair even more mussed up from her short snooze.

"Huh, Reese? What's the matter?" She slurred sleepily, blinking her mismatched eyes. 

“I sure hope my Baby Girl wasn’t playing with herself when she knew her Mommy would be back soon…” Reese stated, raising a perfectly groomed eyebrow. 

Marcy looked sheepish, sitting up on the bed and crossing her stripy sock clad legs beneath her. Her chin dipped down to her chest. 

“Uh- Maybe?” She nervously giggled, looking up at the still standing woman. Reese shook her head in disappointment. 

“Baby, you need to learn some patience.” She crossed her arms, and with a jerk of her neck she flipped her long blonde locks over her shoulder. “I told you before- you don’t have to take care of yourself when I’m here to do it for you.” She paused. 

“Maybe I just have to punish you for not listening to me…?” The blonde sat down on the bed and pointedly looked at Marcy before patting her thighs. 

Marcy practically threw herself onto the older’s lap, vibrating with excitement. Reese couldn’t help let out a little exhale of amusement at the others antics. She then tutted and spoke; “Now now, don’t look too happy about this. What good’s the punishment if you’re just going to enjoy it? Maybe I’ll just think of something else.” She trailed off, not waiting for Marcy’s response. 

Just by the change in posture alone Reese knew Marcy was trying to hide her excitement from the older woman now. 

“Count them, Babygirl.” She ordered sternly. 

“Okaaaay!~” Marcy singsonged, then remembered that wasn’t the response her Mommy was looking for. With a mock glumness in her voice, she responded; “I mean- uh… Okay..” with a little downward tug of her eyebrows. 

Reese’s immaculately manicured hands struck down on Marcy’s tender soft behind with a loud whack. Marcy’s giddiness returned as she tried to muffle a giggle, her head buried in the soft sheets of their bed.

“What did I say, darling?” Reese enquired. 

Marcy’s messy head turned to the side, nher eyes trying to catch Reese’s as best as she could from this angle. “One~” 

Reese shook her head, there was no taking the sunshine out of this girl’s spirit, and she loved her for that. That being said she brought her hand down once again. 

“Ah! Two!” 

They repeated the process like that, over and over with Reese spanking and Marcy counting off each strike of the hand. Marcy giggled ever so softly to herself between each smack. Reese let her off the hook before it didn’t seem like the girl could help it at all- and besides. She was doing so good taking the punishment otherwise. Occasionally she’d let out a little wince as Reese’s hand struck a particularly sore spot but when the Blonde would look down with worried eyes Marcy would get on with it- saying the next number with pure glee. 

Once they reached their final strike, Reese gazed upon the rosy red surface of Marcy’s precious behind. She leaned down and pressed her painted lips against the skin, smirking as the act left behind the black imprint of her mouth, providing a deep contrast against the red. 

“You can get up now, baby.” Reese stated and almost immediately Marcy scrambled up and embraced the larger woman in a hug, giggling softly as she sat herself on her lap. 

“I love youuuu!~” She beamed as Reese brushed her dark fringe away from her forehead, giving there a little smooch too. 

“‘Love you too, baby.” She ran her hand through the short locks and rested her cheek on the crown of Marcy’s head as her own arms wrapped around her babygirl. She could feel the smaller woman shake with giddiness and pure happiness at the words. God, Reese would fight wars and win them for the small raven haired girl in her arms. She was the best thing to happen to the middle aged blonde in a long time. Possibly in her whole life? 

They sat like that for a while longer before Reese shifted, Marcy making a noise of slight complaint at the loss of the warm comfy position. “I’ll be a minute.” She stated, the blonde moving up and away to get changed out of her clothes, folding the fabric up and placing it away in its rightful space. She just caught sight of Marcy’s discarded clothes laying haphazardly on the floor. She sighed and shook her head, she’d tell off the younger for that later. 

Just as Reese sat back down on the bed Marcy perked up- “If I’m not allowed to play with myself when you’re gone…. You’re here now!! Can we do it now- Please?” She suggested, hopeful playfulness in her eyes. 

Reese held her chin in her hands for a moment as she thought about it. She felt conflicted- as she had just punished the younger woman for not being able to wait…… but she did say please. 

“Since baby asked so nicely…” She grinned and moved quickly, pushing the smaller woman down onto her back, unbuttoning her oversized shirt as Marcy let out an exclamation of joy. It would be a while yet before she got any sleep.


	5. Mat/Vincent (Feederism)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day five: feet / sadomasochism / feederism / shotgunning 
> 
> soup but..... make it sexy
> 
> (vincent belongs to @babygrinch1399)

“Okay- Okay! ’m good now!” Mat tried pushing himself away from Vincent on the couch, as best as he could feeling as sluggish as he did right now- the combination of the tiredness he’d been feeling the past few weeks and the full stomach urged him to go to sleep. 

He didn’t really feel like trying to run away from this man. He hadn’t known him long- at least he didn’t think so- his perception of time was a touch warped at the moment (Not knowing whether hours or days had passed in between sweaty moments of nausea) - But he’d lost everyone else he knew in life already and the kind man didn’t have to take in Matthias and take care of him- get him clean; but he did anyway. So the light haired man didn’t want to waste the other’s time he already spent on him by fucking off. 

That being said, Vincent’s methods of taking care were a bit more than what he was used to. 

“Seriously- man, I’m full! I swear!” He raised his hands up, palms facing towards the other man. Vincent’s eyes looked to Mat, dark eyebrows furrowed.

“Mmm, dunno- I really think you oughta finish the bowl.” He responded, holding said bowl up in his hands. Ever since the nausea left Mat’s system, he’d been determined to get some food down the smaller mans throat. 

Vincent didn’t really understand why- but there was something oddly endearing about seeing the little ex-junkie he fished out of the trash looking healthier than ever- and with his little stomach ever so slightly rounded out underneath his borrowed t-shirt and his cheeks no longer pale and gaunt. He was nothing but skin and bones when Vincent found him and something protective stirred in him when he saw how much of a mess Mat was.

“I’m good- what I had was plenty.” Mat spoke and stifled a yawn into his fist. 

“Nah- I’m not buying that.” Vincent responded by shuffling closer down to Mat on the couch and dipping a spoon into the around about half full bowl of soup, reaching out with it to the shorter man. 

Mat raised an eyebrow. 

Vincent shot back with a Look. 

Mat sighed and opened his mouth and allowed the spoon entry, swallowing the warm liquid within. He himself reached out to take the bowl himself since it seemed like he wasn’t winning but Vince shook his head, holding the bowl close to his chest. 

“No way, man. If I leave it to you, you're just gonna sit and stir the spoon ‘round until it goes cold.” He had to stop himself from laughing at Mat’s taken aback face- implying that was just his plan as well. “You just sit there and I’ll sort you out.” 

He wasn’t used to eating this much- before… everything.. he would barely eat a meal every day if he was lucky. And now ever since he’d stopped vomiting every chance he got Vincent was making sure he was getting the full three meals a day which was… a lot to him. 

Though he wouldn’t deny that he actually was feeling the hunger gnawing at him throughout the day, maybe because he wasn’t getting any of his other fixes his body was deciding that hey, food could be pretty cool? Mhm, he didn’t know. But what he did know was that actually eating like this was so weird and foreign.

Mat’s thoughts were interrupted by another spoonful being forced into his mouth. 

“C’mon, no zoning out.” Vincent would have snapped his fingers if he didn’t have his hands full, so he settled for just going in for another spoonful. He watched as Mat’s eyes snapped into realisation and as his deft pink tongue peeked through underneath the utensils. 

Vincent gulped just as Mat did. 

He kept giving spoonful after spoonful to Mat, occasionally having to make sure Mat wasn’t gonna drift off- he’d been getting more and more alert over the past while that Vincent had known him, a total alteration of how out of it he was at the beginning. But right now he was thankful it just seemed like he was simply tired. And full. 

They went on like that for a while longer- until the metal of the spoon scraped the bottom of the bowl. Vincent put the bowl down by his feet on the ground, noting to himself to be careful with here he stood later on and watched Mat as he shuffled, trying to get comfy. 

Mat let his head flop back against the soft armrest of the couch as he threw an arm over his face, letting out a breathy sigh as he attempted to rest in a position that wouldn’t jostle his full stomach. 

Strong hands snaked their way under the borrowed shirt (Vincent didn’t mind letting the smaller man wear them for now- the stuff he was wearing when he found him was threadbare and no good for keeping him warm, besides…. The way he caught glimpses of the tattooed collarbone when the familiar fabric slipped around his shoulders made him feel…. Feelings, to say the least ) and rubbed his little swollen tummy gently, trying to help the food settle within. 

He lowered his hands to unbutton Mat’s jeans to try and give him some relief, and relief did it give if the gasp that left the other man was anything to go by. His eyes trailed over the little patch of sand coloured hair that edged up towards his navel, the little silver stud just above said navel, and the flower etched into his skin onto his hip bone, just peeking out from underneath his pants. And then there was the little bump of his stomach. It was barely big enough for him to cup his hands over but there was something absolutely so precious about it- he preferred it much more than its usual sunken in state. 

Teal eyes looked out from underneath Mat’s forearm, which he moved slightly out of the way The edges of his lips cocked up into a smirk as he took notice of the way the other man was staring at him. 

“Heh- like what you see?” He cheekily purred, he would have even attempted to shift himself into something of a sultry pose if he wasn’t weighed down by the sloshy contents of his stomach. God, this was such a strange feeling for him. 

Vincent continued on with rubbing the tender taut flesh, trying to come up with something witty to say in response but just as he opened his mouth to speak he felt the rumble underneath his hands as he pressed into the crest of the tummy. Within a moment Mat opened his mouth and belched. 

“‘scuse me.” Mat mumbled aloofly, not looking particularly bothered about it, just continuing laying back with his eyes closed, looking pleased and comfy as the pain in his gut was soothed by Vincent. 

Soon the sound of quiet snores filled the room, Vincent looked up to see Mat’s face slack and relaxed, mouth agape just an inch as he finally succumbed to sleep, eased into it by a full stomach and a calming tummy rub. Vince smiled, grabbing the blanket he kept nearby and threw it over the other man. He stood up and stepped away, he had stuff to take care of. 

But before he left, he gave one last glance to the sleeping man.


	6. Mim (Corset)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day six: daddy / corsets / cock worship / incest
> 
> my girls.... theyre in love.

If going off personality alone, you’d never peg Mim as being as vain as she actually is. 

She couldn’t help it- she wasn’t allowed to be in charge of the way she looked for a good majority of her life so now that she had the freedom? She was going to make sure she looked exactly the way she wanted to, everyday. 

She was the latest riser in the morning out of their little group, so as she sat up in the bed- she was sans her partner. Flos was strict about getting up before the sun did, not taking the early morning privacy for granted. Which left Mim on her own to go about her own daily morning routine. 

She rose from the woolen sheets- the rooms they rented out in Clermans’ local inn were not exactly the best but it was suitable enough for them for now as they tried to dig up information about the man they were tracking down. She shivered as she padded across the floor.

Mim always forgot how cold this part of the country was, never seeming to quite get over the long frost- but she’d be damned if that stopped her sleeping in the nude. Besides- she’d picked up enough pyromancy tricks over the years to be able to heat herself up in situations like these. 

She stood before the chest currently holding both her and her Flos’s belongings. She easily heaved the heavy top open and rifled through it- trying to find her clean clothes. (Yesterday’s outfit had been dirtied by their endeavours) 

Eventually after digging through Flos’ several ripped tunics and harem pants combinations she came across an outfit she hadn't worn in admitibly a while, folded into a tidy little square and tied up with blue ribbon. She grabbed it and her usual day to day things and stepped back over to the bed- thankful for the mirror nearby- and laid all the pieces on the piece of furniture. They didn’t plan to be doing much beyond taking to people around town today- she wanted to let the younger two members of the group rest up after a busy few weeks. So she completely justified wearing her prettier, less practical outfit today. 

She pulled on her undergarments- first her panties and then her stockings, sighing at the newfound warmth over her strong chunky legs.

She could hear the scrambled shoutings of Twiggy in the next room over and Kajal’s muffled voice through the walls, probably trying to get her under control. Mim sighed- her adopted children better quiet down before the other people here put in complaints and got them thrown out of their rooms- again. 

She sat down for the moment as she lifted the hairbrush up and combed it through her unruly violet curls. The adventurer sat like that for a while- lost in her thoughts as she tried taming the waves. 

Next she undid the delicate little bow holding the fabric together- relishing in the way the soft silk felt under her calloused hands. 

She slipped the white and blue fabric over her head and tied the little ribbon in the front of the bust. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, she grinned as she twirled the skirt around, finding nothing but absolute joy in the way the inbuilt petticoat swished around her legs. She was a simple woman, easily amused. And she knew she could spend a whole day fascinated with the way the fabric moved. 

She couldn’t leave the rest of her little team unattended for too long- so there would be none of that today. She grabbed a tiny little hand sized box and opened it with a click. She dipped her fingers in and pulled out a black velvet choker, adorned with a single white pearl. She won it in a bet years ago from Harley and has treasured it since. Come to think about it- that was how she had gotten most of today’s ensemble. Simply buying things just wasn’t her style.

The Arrowwich native won the dress in a battle on her first trip into the Rouves Mountains. She felt so at home there- among fellow ladies with fighting on the brain and when presented with the fine silks- a luxury she had never experienced before- she was ecstatic. The other pieces were for the most part rewards for helping out here and there. 

Speaking of, she eyes the brown pieces of leather. Choosing to first deal with the boots, sitting down she slid the thick material up over her calves and slid the cord through the eyelets of the boots, lacing them up in an intricate pattern she’d been taught since a young age. 

Before she got to the wrist guards she pulled out a little pouch from the miniature box, carefully she dipped her pointer finger in it, coating the digit in an electric blue powder. She slid the finger over her eyelids and traced over her plump lips, staining them the blue colour that she so passionately loved. She wiped the excess off into the insides of the pouch before closing it securely shut once again. Then on went the thin slices of leather around her forearms. 

Finally, there was the very last piece. 

Mim was a big fan of corsets. She thought she didn’t look hotter than when her (admittedly, kinda chubby, what could she say? She was middle aged and fond of drinking) waist was nipped in, enunciating her wide hips and generous chest.

But getting the damned thing on was always the problem. 

She held the brown fabric in her hands as she turned her back to the mirrors surface, flipping as much of her hair to sit in the front and turning her head back to try and get as good a look at her back half as she possibly could. 

She wrapped the leather around her waist and attempted to lace the thing up, grunting as she couldn’t get it tight enough.

The door opened suddenly, her partner Flos not even bothering to knock. She was a sight to see, her tanned skin glistening with sweat as it dripped down her compact muscles. Her single working eye stared at Mim in her current situation. In a heartbeat she closed the door behind her and whistled. 

“Breaking out the good stuff today?” Flos’ raspy voice called out as she sauntered over to Mim, the good half of her face curling up into a smile. 

“A little help, honeybee?” Mim asked hopefully.

“Anything for you, Viv.” Flos responded, standing between Mim and the mirror and bending the taller woman down over the bed effortlessly and taking hold of the two cords of fabric, pulling as tight as she possibly could. Mim let out a gasp as the air escaped her lungs. 

“How’s that?” Asked, pressing closer to her partner, even pushing her leg up onto the bed to pull and thread the cords through the holes, making sure it was kept as tight as it would go. 

“P-perfect!” Mim wheezed, trying to get over how sudden the action was. 

Flos’ strong yet small hands tied the cords into a bow and then sneaked their way down her other halfs body. She felt the now smaller waist and wrapped her hands around it, letting out an appreciative hum as she stroked her hands over it. Then her hands went on adventuring through the layers of petticoat to grasp onto Mim’s plump behind, giving the flesh a little pinch before she sunk her fingers in.

Mim threw her head around, looking to Flos with an expression of mock scandalous shock. 

“Don’t you know how to treat a lady!?” She tried saying but broke into a fit of giggles. 

It was contagious, Flos couldn’t help but join in on her laughter, even dressed to the nines she wouldn’t fool anybody. 

“Hah! You’ll have to forgive me but I don’t see any lady here- just my whore in stolen fine clothes-” She continued laughing, now even harder as Mim retaliated. 

“Hey! I won these fair and square and you know it!” She defended herself, then paused. “Awww- I’m your whore? Honeybee!” She grinned from ear to ear as Flos gave her ass a smack. 

Mim responded by hiking the layers of skirt up and wiggling her ass underneath Flos’ hands. 

“Makers christ- Get up here so I can kiss you, Viv.” Flos moaned and with the excitement of a thousand hounds Mim stood up and turned around, peppering the shorter woman with kisses. Flos held Mim’s tiny, leather clad waist in her arms and met Mim’s lips with her own.  
A loud crash could be heard from the other room and they froze. Flos’ face scrunched up in a scowl as they both realised that they would have to deal with that. Now. 

Mim leaned took as deep a breath as she currently could and gave Flos a sorry, gap toothed smile. 

“I’m sorry, love. We’ll continue this tonight, yeah?”


	7. Art/Burr (Aphrodisiacs)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> not too happy with this one at all thus why it.... took so long to actually do but o well at least its done now 
> 
> usual usual. art belongs to babygrinch1399
> 
> plot doesnt make much sense but in one of our dnd sessions art was cursed to be a were rabbit

Business at Haven’s marketplace had been booming more and more by the week. Ever since peace was brought back to the little town, word got out about it. Adventurers and traders alike stopped by what was once a quiet little mining town. 

Burr walked down said market with a joyful skip to his step, arms linked with his lovers, emerald eyes fascinated by every little trinket filled stall. 

Burr was ever so glad to be out of the tavern- where he resided in most of these days, providing entertainment for his Auntie’s - (He was still not so sure of the validity of their relationship but… it was true that half elf never did know much about his father’s side of the family. Besides, she was too frightening to try and interrogate about it.) - customers. 

His green eyes looked up as he felt something land on his head- of course when he chose to go without his wide brimmed hat was the day when something decided to mess with his wavy brunette locks.

His tan hands rose up to touch above his ever so slightly pointed ear, trying to figure out what he just felt. His fingers came back down with a little yellow flower in their grasp. He looked over to Art, facing into the stall but looking out at him from the corner of his eye. His lips tugged at the corners into a tiny little grin as he mumbled a small thanks to his little robin companion, flying around him in circles, tweeting happily. 

The half elf grinned brightly. 

They laughed amongst each other as the moved onto the next stall, not noticing the incoming man with his arms filled with crates of vials. 

Crash 

Burr blinked. 

He looked down at himself- seeing his cream tunic stained pink from the unknown liquid, currently covering him, his love and a majority of the ground below them. He wrinkled his nose at the sweet, tangy smell secreting in the air. 

"Oh- gods! I'm so sorry about this, fellas!" The little aged human apologised. 

"No no- we weren't looking where we were going- it's our fault, sir…." Burr responded. "But if this fine? There's nothing in this that'll harm us, right?" The half elf questioned, bending down and picking up the still whole wooden crate and handing it over to the man.

The same couldn't be said for the vials that were previously housed within said crate. All that remained was the shatters of glass and the kinda smelly stickiness that stuck to him

His old eyes squinted over the both of them, taking in their features. He shook his head, wisps of graying hair swaying with the action. 

"No, no, boys. You should be plenty fine. Might feel a little warm but that should be all!" He said 

"Just our luck, eh?" Burr joked and raised an eyebrow when a moment passed without an answer. 

Burr looked back to see Art stood stock still. 

Concern welled up within the Bard. 

“Art? What’s the matter?” He reached out with a hand. 

Breathing heavily, Art snatched Burr’s wrist in tight, strong grip quicker than Burr could react to. 

Burr was pulled along the busy market streets by Art, the full blooded elf snarling at anyone in their path until he went along a narrow little alleyway- when they turned the corner into a dead end, Burr was pushed up against the mossy stone wall. 

(From where they left, the little man arrived at a stall and placed his empty crate down with a sigh. Overhead a sign read 'Lupine Breeding'. 

He crouched down next to the cages upon cages of rabbits and such that were bundled around his wooden stall. 

"Thank the gods none of that got on any of you critters. That sure could have gotten messy, eh?" He smiled fondly and reached a now cleaned hand in, scratching behind a floppy ear.) 

Art’s one hand held him in place as the taller man grunted, face pressed tight to the side of Burr’s as he nibbled on the ear. “Love- what’s gotten into you? W-we’re kind of in public right now.” He nervously laughed, before breaking out into a gasp as teeth bit down harder, feeling blood trickle down his neck. Art’s other hand tugged his silk sash away, tearing at the fabric when one hand wasn’t enough to untie the knot. 

The elf pressed his chest flush against Burr’s back to keep him in place as he ended used both hands to untie the laces of his trousers. He pulled the lace out and threw it to the dirty ground, frantically tugging down the soft navy fabric to just below his plump behind. 

Fair skinned fingers were shoved into his mouth and in between heavy breathes he heard Art's grumbley voice demand into his ear that he suck. 

Burr could feel Art buck his hips behind him, already impatient as Burr rolled his tongue over the digits attempting to wet them enough for what he assumed was about to happen. He could feel clear as day the hard form of Art's cock press against him- even through Art's own thick clothes. 

The fingers left his mouth with a loud audible pop and made their quick way down to his entrance. With less care than Art would usually treat him with, the digits were shoved in and roughly scissored, making Burr gasp loudly and squeeze his eyes shut. 

A strangled cry escaped the half elf's mouth as he felt Art's member swiftly replace his fingers, the Elf full on panting and emanating an insane warmth from behind him as he plunged his cock into Burr. 

As soon as he fully sheaved himself Art immediately got into it, snapping his hips and sliding in and out of Burr somehow both carnally frantic and with the same characteristically elf like Grace that was embedded in most of his motions. 

As he continued thrusting animalistically, his hands gripped onto tanned hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh for a better grip on the other man. He trailed his lips up Burr’s neck and teased his teeth over the goose bumped skin. Art’s warm breath in such a sensitive place made Burr shudder- which morphed into a loud, wanton moan as Art’s dick hit him in that special place. Art hummed and nipped the tan skin, not hard enough to draw blood like before but it was enough for Burr to wince slightly. 

There just seemed to be no stopping Art’s burst of energy- he just kept thrusting and thrusting with everyone that he had to give- occasionally meeting that spot that made Burr see stars. If he had the mind to think about it, Burr would compare this to things Art had told him about how he was with other bed partners he took but with him…. He was more gentle. 

Art didn’t seem to notice, of course he didn’t in the state he was in- but Burr’s breath halted as his ear twitched. For a moment he could hear closer footsteps than the rest and the last thing he wanted was for the pair of them to be caught like this- Bard stereotypes be damned he didn’t strangers knowing about his… sex life. Even if it involved this strange, so out of the usual for him situation. 

Eventually those steps grew quieter, joining the sea of the ones on the main street.   
Burr braced his forearm against the stone wall and moaned. “F-fuuuck.” He drew out, so thankful that whoever he had heard had left. 

He heard a grunt from behind him, the grip on his sides grew tighter, more painful as Art came with one more powerful thrust, spilling his seed inside his lover.

Art wrapped his arms around his lover and slid until the both of them were sat on the ground. He rested his chin on top of Burr’s head, his blue eyes lazily shut close and his long brown locks were tangled and sweaty. 

Burr, trapped in this position, raised his hand up to pat Art’s forearm and when he got no response he gulped. The half elf hoped that whatever had just happened was over and his love would be fine when he awoke- though he would be lying if he said that what had just happened hadn’t left himself feeling…… flustered, to say the least, himself. 

Maybe later on he could convince Art to be a tad less gentle with him next time they were involved…. In a place far more private, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dont ask me why that guy breeds rabbits maybe he just squeezes the juice out of them to make viagra or maybe sometimes rabbits also cant get it up. im so tired


	8. Marco (Sex Work)

Marco waited patiently in the darkly lit bedroom, the sound of music pounding through the walls from the next room over. 

He didn't mind when it was Don he had to work for- the man was generous with his cash and never took things too overboard. It was just nights like these when he was partying with his friends that made Marco worry, because inetively they'd join in too, Don was fine with it, he wouldn't put a stop to his companions fun, and the pair of them were…. rambunctious, to say the least. 

He sat on the fine sheets, trying to psyche himself up for what he knew was coming. 

The door clicked open and in came his… employer and his companions. 

"Stand up, doll." The smooth accented voice commanded and Marco stood up on strong yet skinny legs, feeling the warm fluffy carpet under his toes. 

Don eased himself into the recliner at the corner of the room and the pair sat on the edge of the bed, waiting with faces akin to hungry sharks for him to do something. 

The pair gave a drunken cheer, hollering at the skin on show. He could feel Don's stare burn into him from behind and he took a deep breath as he unbuttoned his jeans, swaying his lithe hips to shimmy the fabric down his thighs. He stepped out of them and stood before them.

He couldn't even remember their names- that's how much he cared (he thinks one of them began with an M…. Maybe?) but with another cold stare from Don he sat his skinny ass down onto the larger ones lap. Biting the inside of his cheek to vent his frustration while he dragged his pointer finger down the man's chest. 

He ignored the way he felt when he felt hands grip onto his freckled fresh. 

He reciporated his kisses, faking moans as their lips met and hands roamed all over his body. 

He couldn't mess this up- not when he got paid as well as he did for this. He could be out there doing way more difficult jobs for less money- what he had with Don was good. Mags said she wasn't going to take money off of her little brother for rent but the idea of living free didn't sit well with him- he had to help out somehow. 

And that way of helping out turned out to be getting on his knees. 

That wasn't just a phrase- the other man was sick of waiting and told the other it was his turn- so off the lap Marco went to go down on the ground, in between a pair of legs.

His mind strayed elsewhere as the button eye level with him currently was undid- and the thick dark cock was freed from its restraints. He just barely batted an eyelid when strong hands gripped his short brown locks (Just long enough to hold onto…. Maybe he should cut his hair later on) and pushed his head down towards the dick. His pink tongue peeked out his mouth and gave the skin a lick. 

He tried not to grimace at the taste of the sweaty skin on his on the roof of his mouth as he took the length in. He couldn't help the gag that escaped him when his head was pushed even further down, the head of the cock making friends with the back of his throat. 

Marco attempted to bob his head a little but it seemed that most of the work was being done for him currently- he just had to focus on making sure he didn't throw up. 

He felt the other one heave himself up from the bed and position himself behind him. 

"Hey Don- Can I…?" He trailed off hopefully. 

"Knock yourself out, my friend." He replied smoothly, the sip he took afterwards of his drink audible even to Marco- halfway out of his mind right now. 

"Get up off your knees but don't fucking stop what you're doing, you hear me?" 

He heard him, and awkwardly shambled up, bent over in a position that was almost painful with how tight the grip on his head was, not allowing his front half to barely move at all. 

Marco felt big hands grab onto his skinny hips as the other man's cock enter him. He moaned around the dick in his mouth, feeling so thankful he had the mind to prepare his hole before hand. The cock wouldn't have slipped as easily into him otherwise. 

That didn't mean it was an altogether easy experience however, the man was… big, to say the least. He felt absolutely filled to the brim, almost uncomfortably so, and he wiggled his ass underneath that strong grip- trying to get used to the sensation. 

Their thrusts weren't timed with each others- which left the young man feeling all over the place as he was pounded from both ends. 

They came at relatively the same time, his head was still being pushed down so he couldn't escape the stream of cum shooting down his throat. The other one (his name was just at the tip of his white coated tongue…. Micky? No…) didn't have to decency to pull out either, for when he excited Marco with a breathy moan, he felt the puddle of cum drip out of him.

He coughed, sliding back down onto his knees. He looked to Don, giving him an expression of "Are you wanting anything tonight?" Or at least, he hoped that's what his expression was. He assumed that was the case because Don just shook his head, sipping the last of his wine before he stood up, motioning for his friends to follow.

He lay down on his side on the fluffy carpet as they all got up to leave. He closed his green eyes- knowing he wouldn't have long before he needed to get up and leave so he tried to savour this respite while he could. 

He heard the door open but not close just yet. He cracked open one eye to catch sight of Don stood over him- wallet in hand. 

"Good work tonight." He said, taking out several bills and holding his hand out, he dropped them. The green spilled all over Marco. 

As Don turned to go exit, Marco croaked out. "Thanks, boss."


	9. Xtina/Marissa (Lingerie)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day nine: lingerie
> 
> usual usual, marissa in mine- xtina is babygrinch1399's. 
> 
> im behind by a few days so im trying my best to catch up

Marissa exited the shower, towelling her long dark hair dry while her glistening built body was clad in nothing but a sports bra and a pair of track pants- both black. She padded out on the cold ground of the hallway- intent on getting back to the bedroom as soon as possible. 

Her girlfriend, Xtina, a beautiful bundle of cuteness in a tiny blonde package, had told her earlier that when she got back, she’d have a surprise. Marissa’s mind had been brimming with curiosity all day- cursing her sweaty state when she arrived home. The dark haired woman had no choice but to go for a quick shower, not wanting to be around her girlfriend in such a state of disarray. 

She clicked open the door, peeking her head in to spot Xtina sitting on their bed. She hadn’t noticed her yet, too busy tinkering away with something- small enough to fit in her hands but Marissa knew it would probably end up being part of something big- some kind of weapon that would shit out acid or something like that. 

She was _so cool. _

“Hey cutie.” Marissa called out, finally entering the room and Xtina’s head snapped up, her face bursting into a smile.

“Oh! Marissa- you're finally here!” She quickly put the little contraption on the bedside table and stood up, stepping forward to meet Marissa in a hug. When they broke away from the hug, Marissa threw the towel around her shoulders into the corner of the room and grinned. 

“Can I find out what this surprise is now? I Or do I have to wait?” She laughed and Xtina nodded her head, stepping backwards away from Marissa. 

Xtina’s hands gently pried oven the buttons of her soft, woollen cardigan, slowly revealing a surprise underneath. 

White, lacy, delicate. The cutest little bra covered her pale chest- almost translucent lace made up the majority of it, with thin straps in a complex decorative display holding it up. Her neck even had a white thin ribbon tied around it. 

She continued disrobing- carefully peeling away her camouflage pants to reveal 

She was clad in the most fragile fabric Marissa had ever seen, she was almost afraid to touch something so girly and delicate in case the mere act of making contact would rip it. 

Xtina’s hands reached out and grabbed her own with a soft giggle, pulling them down towards her plush hips to grip her securely as her own arms raised up to hug around Marissa’s strong, broad back. Their chests rested against each others as Xtina’s pale face was flush with a blush. 

“...Do you like it?” Xtina asked nervously due to the lack of anything being said by her girlfriend. 

Marissa gulped. 

“Are you kidding me? You are absolutely gorgeous!” She boomed, bringing their faces together for a kiss. After they pulled away Marissa continued on. “You are genuinely the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, I love you.” She spoke fondly, accentuating her point by planting a little smooch on the other girls forehead, because it was the truth. Marissa didn’t feel like she had a lot of beauty in her life up until Xtina entered it, and she was forever so grateful to have her now, especially after their… rough start. 

“I-... Really?” Xtina’s eyes widened, holding onto her lover a little tighter as her cheeks got a little redder, a big smile blooming on her face. 

“Yes, really!” Marissa replied. 

Xtina seemed to think about something in her head, her adorable face pinched in concentration, eventually she nodded and slowly slid away from her girlfriend’s arm to make her way to their shared bed, sitting herself down onto the soft sheets, her thigh high clad legs crossed which she seemed intent on staring down at.

She seemed to hesitate for a moment, eventually working herself up to say. “Y’know, I didn’t just put this on to hug…..?” Her head raised back up, her big blue eyes staring at Marissa, glimmering in the light of the room. 

Marissa wasted no time in throwing her own clothes off of herself as she stepped over to their bed, intent on showing her adorable, beautiful, dressed up girlfriend a good time. When she arrived she sat next to Xtina and snaked her hands around to her back, unhooking the bra and exposing soft breasts to Marissa. The dark haired woman cupped them, appreciating their cute beauty. 

Her strong hands then gave a gentle push to Xtina’s chest, pushing her down onto her back on the bed. She raised herself above her, built arms holding herself up as she just simply took a moment to take in just how beautiful the blonde woman was, looking up towards her. 

She then went down, peppering pale skin with kisses until she got down to the lace panties, Marissa mentally prayed that she wasn't going to absolutely wreck the fabric as she herself sat up and slid the panties out from underneath Xtina’s behind, lifting her legs up with ease to slide the fabric down and over the soft cotton coating her thighs. Any other time she would simply fling it to the ground but she took care to place the clothing gently on the bed. 

Marissa turned her attention to what she revealed, she moved herself back over to her girlfriends crotch, looking up to catch a glimpse of Xtina’s face, flushed with anticipation. She grinned before kissing the mound, and putting her tongue to good work, her hands gripping the soft plush flesh of Xtina’s thighs, her thumb rubbing over the soft fabric. 

She blew on her clit softly, laughing softly at the explicit moan that escaped her girlfriend, alternating occasionally between that and meeting her folds with her tongue. Xtina’s hands gripped their pink bed sheets.

Marissa pulled her head up, and climbed back up to be level with Xtina, wiping her mouth quickly before going in for a deep kiss, she didn’t want to leave her flower all alone though, she snaked her hand down to slip her fingers around the blonde’s sensitive parts. 

“Oh… Mari-” Xtina whined in between pants and kisses, turning her head to the side as she jerked her hips. 

“You feeling good, cutie?” Marissa mumbled, voice deep with lust. 

“Oh _yes._” Xtina responded, closing her eyes as her breath hitched as Marissa pet her clit with her fingers, after a moment she sunk into the bed. 

Marissa took her fingers out of her girlfriend, wiping them clean on her own thigh before laying down next to the blonde, looking intently at her beautiful face. 

“You really suit that stuff, know.” 

Blue eyes blinked open as the corners of her lips tugged up sleepily. 

“I had hoped that you’d like it!”


	10. Ounce (Micro)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day ten: micro/macro
> 
> super indulgent bc i was one of those kids that loved the borrowers way too much. micro macro is so cute. 
> 
> usual, i only own ounce. the rest belong to babygrinch1399

Jakkal trudged his way through the heavy snow, the last of the days light just about disappearing into the horizon. The young man had decided to go pay a visit to the quiet sniper he knew that holed himself away in this part of the area. 

It had been a short while since he had seen him last, but it was a while nonetheless. 

He came upon the familiar tree where the lithe young man usually sat perched up, perking up as he saw the telltale familiar brown cloak blowing in the wind.   
The muscled young man heaved himself up the tree with ease, his muscles clenching as he made his way up to where he saw the pile of brown fabrics. 

He paused when he didn’t spot the owner of the cloak accompanying it. 

“Ounce, where are you, bro?” His accented voice called out, trying to see if he could catch sight of the skinny little sniper. He eyed the pile of clothes bunched up over the large branch, wondering if his fellow snow swarm had took a page out of his book and decided to forgo any coverings. It seemed a bit out of character the reserved man though, Jakkal thought. 

Just as he was staring at the bundle of browns, he saw something shift underneath. He shifted closer, blue eyes narrowed in suspicion. 

A tiny white haired head popped out from underneath, blank dark eyes stared at him.

“Ounce?!” 

Man, the white zone was fucked up. 

He held out his broad hand and watched as the tiny (clothesless) sniper climbed up and on, struggling out of the fabric that swallowed him up when he was his regular size, nevermind when he was smaller than Jakkal’s palm. 

“Man, what the fuck happened to you?!” He questioned his now tiny friend

Ounce sat, hunched over with his eyebrows scrunched in irritation. “As if I have any clue…. I just woke up like this.” He quietly spat the last word.

“Sorry ‘bout this, but I gotta help you out, yeah?” He apologised before tearing off a corner of the cloak- it didn’t make much difference due to the state of disarray it was already in, to be quite honest- and handing it up to the small form currently sitting on his shoulder. 

“‘Old on, alright?” Jakkal said as he jumped down onto the snowy ground below

He was lucky for his bulk making him sturdy when he felt something small slam into his shin- he looked down to see the young girl Eli looking up at him excitedly, he snaggle toothed mouth perked into a grin. 

“JAKKAL!!!” The young snow swarm beamed. “Friend!!!! I’m bored and wanna play- do you wanna pl-” She cut herself off as she cocked her head up, her violet eyes straining to see as high as Jakkal’s shoulder. “What’s that, Jakkal? Did’ya catch a creature?” She gasped. “Can I see it!?” She pleaded, grabbing onto his pants leg. 

Without even looking down to his shrunken down companion, he knew Ounce was displeased with the situation already. His exasperation when confronted with the young girl was no secret, so Jakkal covered for Ounce. 

“Naahh, nothing here. Sorry to disappoint.” His sharp teeth gleamed in the light as he gave her a sorry smile. “I gotta go do something but i’ll play later with you, yeah?” 

“Okaaaaaaaaay~” She singsonged and went to go toddle away but she stopped. “Wait! Have you seen Ounce? I wanna play with him!” She questioned.

“He’s probably around somewhere- go ‘ave a look for him?” He supplied. 

“Okay! Detective Eli, out!” She ran off to go on her own little quest to find her friend, unknown to her that he was right under her nose. Or right under Jakkal’s ear, to be more precise. 

“Thank you.” Jakkal heard the quiet voice of Ounce as he continued walking, his pointed ear closest to the sniper flicking as he turned around and grinned. 

“No problem, bro!” He beamed and Ounce hunched himself lower into his makeshift remains of his cloak. 

“Shit, too loud?” Jakkal asked, lower this time. 

“You could say that.” Ounce simply responded, futilely attempting to blow his fringe away from his face. 

After walking through the snow for a while, Jakkal stopped, sitting down on the remains of a dead, rotted tree, brushing off the snow that covered the trunk before taking a seat.

Jakkal raised his hand up and grabbed onto Ounce, somewhere in between gently and securely, and held him in between his palm and fingers. Getting a good look at him now that they were more or less in a place that they were less likely to be found by that tiny little troublemaker, Eli.

Jakkal had no clue why this had happened, but he wouldn’t lie and say that this tiny little pocket sized Ounce wasn’t very endearing. 

“Man, you’re smaller than my cock- that shit’s fucked!” He mused, laughing aloud. Ounce responded to that by staring at Jakkal and furrowing his eyebrows. “You’re pretty cute like this, yknow.” His laughter died down into him just simply grinning, rubbing his thumb over Ounces minuscule bare chest. Ounce shifted in Jakkal’s palm, 

Ounce snarled his tiny little upper lip ever so slightly, eyes blank when Jakkal raised his other hand, using his pointer finger to pat Ounces head, squirming in the grip. Jakkal immediately eased up “‘Ey- chill out! You’re fine, you’re fine.” He calmed the tiny sniper, opening up his palm and resting it next to him on the bark. Ounce, clasping the torn scrap of fabric around his shoulders, gracefully stepped off the hand, walking over to the edge of the trunk and glaring at the distance between him and the ground, he was used to big jumps but he didn’t want to try his luck in this… fragile, state. 

“Hey, just chill with me for a bit. Where you trying to rush off to?” 

A sigh. “I suppose, if I must.” Ounce lamented, sitting down next to Jakkal, leaning against his muscular thigh and closing his eyes in resignation. 

They both must have nodded off for a short nap as the sky darkened above them, Jakkal having shifted to be sitting down on the ground, back resting against the bark, with Ounce resting on him. 

Because Jakkal awoke to staring into Ounces dark blank eyes, normal sized instead of miniscule. 

“Ey! You’re back to normal!” He exclaimed. And also, very naked. It was a good thing Jakkal chose to wear his vest for a change, unbuttoning it as Ounce shifted off of him and handing the dark fabric over to the sniper. The form fitting piece of fabric drowned Ounce’s underweight frame, providing him with at least some modesty. 

“C’mon, let’s go get your shit and get you dressed.” Jakkal stood up, stretching his muscles. “Eli’s probably still looking about for ya’”


	11. Ounce (Crossdressing)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day eleven: crossdressing
> 
> more ounce- talks of captivity, noncon and forced crossdressing in this one- heads up. 
> 
> pierce is babygrinch1399s

He ran his hands over the fragile material, the fabric provided no protection due to how thin it was. 

Ounce had never worn anything like this in his life. 

He was used to the thick wools and cottons that he scavenged off of bodies. Sturdy leather boots and thick knit jackets meant to keep the wearer warm (not that he need to be kept warm, mind you. But the heaviness of his clothes was almost comforting, a heavy sense of security to keep the white haired young man grounded.) 

His forced attire was everything that his old life wasn’t. 

It was pretty- the thin fabric cascading down from his chest in soft pink waves, the bottom frilling out and ending just where his skinny thighs ended. It was translucent too. His underweight frame visible, tinted pink and glistening with whatever the fabric was made out of. 

The ribbon that held it up had to be tied extra tight behind his collared neck, his chest was as flat as the ground of the room he was locked in, there was nothing to fill out the high bustier, so sometimes the fabric would slip about, exposing his nipples. 

He used to zip his jacket all the way up, the only skin he would have on show was his lower face, should he have his cloak up, and his fingers, peeking out from his gloves. 

His hair was growing out, and annoying him when it got onto his face. But he was told that pretty girls had long hair, and they should keep it in their minds to take care of it. It reached long down his bony back. 

He yearned for his old routine- pulling out his knife to saw off the long ends when it went further than his shoulders. He liked it just long enough to be able to tie up and keep it away, but he wasn’t even allowed to do that. Only sometimes He would come in, sit Ounce on his lap and brush through the long cascading locks, braiding it and keeping it clean. 

There was the pathetic excuse of underwear too, the only thing he had in the way of pants. They were pastel coloured, and striped. A teensy little bow adorned the front. Lace dripped out from the sides, the white almost matching his skin tone. 

They were obviously intended for someone with nothing.. down there, because it was an almost uncomfortable fit. Sometimes, he’d have to squirm where he sat, trying to make himself comfortable. This wasn’t helped by how sore his behind felt almost everyday. 

  
  


He missed his boots too, while his face may have not shown it then. He was ecstatic when he pulled them off one of his prey- a perfect match for him. The ill fitting old pair were thrown away not long after. Now he was made to wear socks, he didn’t even know you get a pair so long. They reached all the way up after his knee and were insanely soft. So much so that it caught him off guard when the rest of his bare skin brushed up against them, the sensation so alien. Sometimes when he was brought out, he was allowed the most pathetic excuse for shoes. They were so thin that it didn’t even feel like he had anything on at all. 

He would rather sit in nothing at all- but when he did that last He was most upset. Speaking of how that was not how he expected his Princess to conduct herself unless he commanded it. 

He was punished  _ hard  _ that night. 

He rubbed his fingers over a healing bundle of scars, his painted fingernails gleaming in the limited light in his room. 

His skin was so tainted with them now, he didn’t understand the insistence in keeping him ‘pretty’ if he was going to be constantly banged up and marred. He wouldn’t lie and say he understood everything about beauty- but he definitely didn't see the beauty in _ this. _

The worst was the… name, carved into him. He couldn't easily see it, for that he was so thankful. But it gnawed at his mind day after day, reminding himself of his situation- of who he  _ belonged to.  _

But that didn’t hide all the evidence of Pierce’s depravity. Should he look down, he’d easily be reminded of that. 

Hell, he just had to move to be reminded. The collar around his neck would let out a jingle, the high pitched noise always without fail making his sensitive ears twitch- which in turn would cause his piercings to sway, causing even more noise. Sometimes he’d curl up and force his hands over his ears, sometimes scratching them, trying to get some kind of relief. 

Pierce found delight in that, watching him writhe on the floor as he sat content. 

Other times, he’d have enough of simply watching and hold Ounce down as he took him, the soft jingle ringing through the room in time with Pierce’s grunts. He absolutely adored watching the beautiful face contort into an expression of agony, makeup smeared across the pale skin. It was a far cry from the blank emotionless canvas his princess once was, he truly created a masterpiece this time.

He’d leave his princess laying on the ground afterwards, for he would always have other business that he would have to attend to, but not before fixing her up. Holding her chin in his hand, wiping with his thumb at the smear of crimson lipstick. Retying the ribbon of her dress so it didn’t hang loosely around her. 

He wouldn’t want her looking a mess, of course. 

Sometimes Ounce felt conflicted.

Sometimes his skin would feel as if it were burning underneath  _ His _ hands. Sometimes it warmed him to his core. 

He didn’t understand it. 

  
  


Some days he woke up- and forgot just who he was. The insistence that he was Pierce’s princess wearing away at it- the torture he endured and the four walls closing in on him making his mind fragile. 

Days spent in the snow, watching the world from above in his perch in the trees were forgotten, for they seemed so far away now. 

  
  
  
  



	12. Oscar/Garfield (Costume)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 12: costumes
> 
> the best time of year approaches...... halloween! halloween! halloween!
> 
> garfield once again belongs to mr baby himself, babygrinch1399

When Robbie found out many of their group had never experienced her favourite holiday, she was aghast, immediately setting out in the days leading up to the end of the month to sort out costumes for their group, enlisting Garfield for her cause- because if anyone could help her out it seemed like he was the man for the job. 

She kept the plan for their groups medic to herself though, wanting to surprise his boyfriend with it. She smiled to herself while rummaging through an old box of costume fabric, she was good at finding stuff- she could spend days just simply going through piles of things and picking out the good things. 

There was no need for that though- she had found what she had set out to look for so she shoved it carefully into her bag, she’d need to make some alterations but the dark haired was handy with a needle and thread. 

  
  


The end of the month came, and while their group didn’t have much planned beyond camping out for their night, the mere act of dressing up in eachothers company was enough to get excited over. It was a welcome little change of pace.

Oscar gulped, from where he sat in the back of the parked car, long nimble hands tugged down the bottom of his costume. When Robbie brought up the idea, she had plans already set in her head for what Oscar absolutely  _ had  _ to dress up as. 

He didn’t know much about the old world- but he couldn’t imagine anyone involved in a job even remotely medical  _ dressing like this.  _

There was nothing left for him to put on. He was clad in an almost skin tight white piece of fabric that he really wasn’t sure what to call. It ended at the top of his thighs and was fastened to a strap around his neck, leaving all his limbs and a heart shaped cutout at his chest bare. There was also the fact it clung to him like it was wet, the fabric a squeaky second skin. 

It certainly was no pair of scrubs, that was for sure.

Accompanying that was a little mini nurse cap, the imitation item clipping into his curly brown locks, along with a fake stethoscope (he had one of these in his medical gear, he didn’t know why Robbie went through with the effort of getting this plastic one) and white socks- which he assumed would look longer on anyone else but on him they came up about knee level- underneath his regular old scuffed up converse. 

He opened the door of the car and slid out, most of their group had already changed so he didn’t feel bad about scurrying off and hiding away in the privacy of the car to change, taking his sweet time about it. (What could he say- that white thing was a hassle to try slip into, okay!)

The air was cold on his exposed skin and he shivered, rubbing his hands over his skinny upper arms and regretting his choice of costume. The thin latex offered no protection against the cold october chill in the air. 

He was extremely conscious of how his legs looked a mile long- accentuated by how short the top half of costume truly was. At the very least he was thankful the bespectacled woman passed him a pair of shorts along with the outfit, which were actually surprisingly comfy, made out of something soft and stretchy. He would have rather they be a lit longer though- the red fabric just barely peeked out from underneath the white shiny shirt? Dress? He had no clue what it was, just that it was way too short. 

“Hey, cham-  _ whoa _ .” Garfield stopped, his mouth agape. He himself was dressed up like an old classic cowboy because,  _ of course _ he was. 

“Hey, Henry.” He nervously smiled, tugging down the fabric again. He winced as the fabric  _ squeaked _ when he moved his limbs. He swore, this was like a heavy duty version of what the gloves he used were made out of. “Ah- Your costume looks great!”

“Thank ya’ partner.” He drawled in a thick stereotypical accent, making Oscar laugh. “You’re looking mighty fine yourself tonight.” Garfield gave a wink, tipping his cowboy hat, one of many that Oscar knew the older man had kicking about. 

Where it anyone else looking at him like this, he’d feel uncomfortable with the attention… but this was Garfield. His man! (which made him so giddy to think about) so he couldn’t rid the smile from his freckled face. 

As expected, everyone was clad in various different costumes for the night, and the oldest members of the group alternated between themselves telling stories as they gathered around the bonfire they had set. They even passed around drink amongst themselves.

Garfield’s thick arm draped itself over Oscar’s bare shoulders when the larger man noticed the other shivering in the cold, regardless of the heat provided by the fire. His thumb rubbed against the freckled skin. 

The pair broke away from the group, excusing themselves from the group as they stepped away, hand in hand. 

They leaned against the vehicle, just out of eyesight of the group, Oscar’s back to the metal as Garfield pressed in, kissing the younger man on the lips, which Oscar returned with a soft moan, his cheeks and nose flushed a rosy red from a combination of the alcohol, the cold and his own easily flustered nature. Garfield broke away from the kiss to gently press his lips against his boys cold nose. 

Garfield rested his large hands on Oscar’s lithe waist, rubbing his hands up and down over his hip bones appreciatively, Oscars own arms were raised up, holding onto Henry’s shoulders. 

Garfield couldn’t take his eyes off of Oscar- so used to seeing his boy in his comfortable baggy layers- even while the weather was warm. He would have never imagined the medic picking something as exposing as this, though the theming of it certainly fit well. 

Oscar seemed to catch on to Garfield’s train of thought as he spoke. “Blame Robbie. She said this one had to be for me.” He bit the inside of his cheek, seemingly _still _ confused as to why it was essential he needed to wear it. 

Garfield made a mental note to thank the woman later, but for now he bent down and pressed a kiss into the swatch of Oscar’s chest that was exposed, grinning widely at the laughter that erupted from Oscar, his facial hair tickling the sensitive skin. 

  
  
  
  



	13. Mat/Vincent (Weight Gain)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day thirteen: weight gain
> 
> this is nowehere as good as i wanted this to be bc this was the day i was looking forward to the most but hey, i just wrote like 5 chapters in the one day
> 
> lesson of the day dont let your stuff pile up because you wont do your fave kink justice when it comes to it :'( 
> 
> anyways, enjoy chubby boy time. vincent is still @babygrinch1399 (

Mat pinched the soft flesh of his stomach.

It had been a good while since Vincent fished him up and got him clean. The dark haired man did his best to keep Mat’s head out of the gutter and made sure he got three meals every day into him. 

Which had expected side effects on someone who was used to  _ no meals a day. _

One of his hands had the fabric of the shirt lifted up as he stared at his reflection. Back before, he was quite vain- he would spend a lot of time focusing on his appearance, staring at mirrors making sure he looked just the way he wanted himself to. Which made it surprising that Mat now hadn’t seen himself in a while. His hair was longer, having grown out in the past few months and seemed to be shinier than he ever remembered it. His face no longer gaunt. Even his eyes seemed to have a spark to them that they never did before. 

He looked happy. 

But that wasn’t his main focus. That was the newly acquired weight on his once skeletal frame. He’d have to be an idiot to not noticed that he wasn’t as bony as he once was, there was no way there wouldn’t have been a difference given how insistent Vincent was to force food down his throat but….

He didn’t think it was  _ this much. _

His stomach jutted out from underneath his chest, the flesh soft when he pressed his fingers against it. Tiny pink marks marred the bottom of it, where it was the most soft, and along his wider hips. 

His legs were bigger too, thighs brushing up against each other when he stood, and when he felt behind him, he could feel the shape of a soft, thick ass. Fuck, he’s never had an actual ass in his life. 

God- just how big had he gotten? Was his old stuff still kicking about somewhere in here? He needed to check. 

-

Vincent opened the door, intent on using the bathroom, only to be met with the sight of Mat trying to squeeze into his old raggedy clothes (which Vincent was sure he had thrown out but now he was kind of glad that maybe he didn’t)

What a sight that was. 

The mesh top did nothing to hide Mat’s new softness, ending just above his belly button (Still bearing that little piercing, the only one he had opted to remove was the the metal ball on his tongue. He so desperately wanted to grab onto the flesh of his stomach and roll his fingers over the metal.) The cropped jumper would have done a better job, had it not been cut in half to end just at his chest. The arms were baggy enough that had it been in it’s original state, it would have probably covered him up. 

The item of clothing failing at it’s job the most was the pants. 

Mat wasn’t even able to button them up, his once stick thin legs gone, now plump and soft. The cutout pattern at the side, with ribbon lacing it up, had his flesh peeking out from the sides. He hadn’t seemed to notice the other man yet, intent on trying to get the leather fabric to fasten, his gut jiggling as he tried sucking it in. 

His hands froze when he finally caught sight of the other man. The shorter man stared up at Vincent, like a deer caught in the headlights as he was exposed in a pretty embarrassing situation. 

“Don't you dare laugh at me, it’s your fault I'm fat.” His sandy eyebrows furrowed as his hand rubbed his little chubby tummy where the fabric dug into him during his attempts at fastening, giving up on the futile pants. They were a lost cause. 

Oh, amusement was not the emotion he was feeling right now, as he felt all his blood go south. 

Vincent stepped 

“Can I?” He offered, reaching out towards the flaps of the pants. 

Mat raised an eyebrow, biting the inside of his cheek as he tried to not look down at the state he was currently in. “Knock yourself out, I guess.” His teal eyes turned away. 

Vincent pulled each of the pieces of fabrics towards each other but not even he could get them to meet. God… his hands were so close to Mat’s gut right now, he just wanted to squeeze and kiss it, rub his palms over it to feel how round and soft it was. To grip his love handles that spilled out from his tight pants. 

He felt giddy knowing that these pants had hung off of Mat’s hips only a few months ago. 

  
  


His breath hitched when he caught sight of the red stripes adorning his skin. Sure- he had given the other man the occasional tummy rub when it was sore enough and Vincent felt brave enough to touch the full taut skin but he hadn’t been close enough in somewhere with good enough lighting to see  _ those.  _ Fuck. 

He never knew that he… liked this, before. Sure he liked cooking and all that and he liked fixing things up, people included it seemed but something in him had  _ awakened _ to say the least and the cause of it was the other man.

You’re never too old to learn you have some kind of deep rooted fetish, huh?

He eventually gave up trying to fasten the trousers as well. It wasn’t that Mat was fat… chubby was more like it, but it was just how drastic the difference was to how skinny he had been before. It wasn’t as noticeable when he was clad in Vincent’s own old comfy, baggy clothes- but in his own skimpy rags, he made Vincent feel lightheaded. 

Mat snapped his fingers, trying to get Vincent’s attention as he zoned out, staring down at Mat’s fleshy middle. The shorter man sighed before pulling the ill fitting clothes off, intent on getting back into what he was wearing before. Vincent blinked, taking in Mat now sans his tight clothes. 

The last thing Vincent wanted to do right now was to make a fool out of himself by continuing to think with his dick, so he excused himself. His face felt warm, every time he closed his eyes he was greeted by the sight of Mat, with his soft curves and cocked smile and eyes like jewels. 

He flopped down on the couch and dug the heels of his palm into his eyes. 

Fuck,  _ he had it bad.  _

  
  
  
  
  
  



	14. Sable (Tentacles)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day fourteen: tentacles
> 
> characters from a game i made a few years back

Sable's blue eyes were overcast with worry. 

"Calm the fuck down, mon fantôme." Caisson murmured as he brushed a strand of his choppy, chin length hair behind his ear. The brown strands could really do with a wash- but he was so close to figuring out this spell. 

Sable sat on the wooden chair, his pale hands held in his lap as he shook ever so slightly- filled to the brim with nerves. 

"Oh- l' enchantuer?" He called out, biting his pink lip. "Are you sure that this will be safe?" The blue haired young man asked, eyeing the jars upon jars that lined the shelves, each filled with some kind of tiny animal carcass floating in liquid. 

"Please- have some more faith in me." Caisson shook his head as he poured something a sickly shade of yellow into an already bright mixture, turning the concoction a disgusting orange. "Besides, you're mort de la terre. I highly doubt anything I could do would rid you of this plane." He rolled his eyes, as if that was the most obvious thing he'd ever had to say. 

Sable knew many spellcasters; Vivre, with her healing flowers that left him feeling soft and warm and fresh every time he paid her a visit. Then there was also that odd one, insistent that their name was Soup. Their magic was almost always a hit or miss on whether or not it actually worked, but he knew that the mysterious being had good intentions. 

Caisson however, gave him the chills. 

Maybe it was due to the fact that the source of his magic was so close to the magic that cursed him to walk the earth forever, no longer able to pass on to the next life. 

Maybe it was the fact that he willingly chose to be so close to something so wretched. 

Or maybe it was because the brunette somehow always knew where to find the ghost, always wanting help in return for supplying Sable with potions and summons. 

This was one of those situations- he had been intent on going to see Vivre, wanting her soothing presence to ease his rising worries, when he heard the telltale call of the spellcaster shouting him down. 

He was dragged to the portable carriage, trying to get in as fast as possible before he spooked the horses at the front, Caisson behind him, securely closing the door and pulling out a chair for the blue haired man. 

At the very least, Sable thought his home was interesting. Much bigger inside than it looked outside, likely due to some of enchantment, he believed, rather than some good interior decorating choices. 

“Ah ha!” Caisson exclaimed, nimble fingers gripping a metal rod, swirling the last of some sort of sea creature’s remains into the mixture, if the fishy smell secreting into the air was anything to go by. He dropped the rod to his table with a clang and ripped open his drawers, fumbling for a cork to close the curved bottle with. 

He turned to Sable with a grin, holding out the bottle proudly. 

“Here we go! Brand spanking new mixture of my classic, créature de l'eau!” He presented the bottle, waving a hand around it. Sable had used it a few times before, it was a semi decent summon, making the surrounding area drown out with rain. 

“Plus, it’s got some new kick to it.” He winked, making Sable shudder ever so slightly. He didn’t know if he liked the sound of that, but alas, he had already sat for hours watching the man create it. He reached out the grab the bottle, only for 

Counting on the Ghost’s reliable instincts, he threw it over his shoulders, waiting on Sable easily catching. 

“You could’ve just handed me it!” Sable screeched, his fancy white blouse stained orange from where the bottle hit him. 

Caisson pinched the bridge of his nose. “Or you could have just caught it!” He shot back, not taking into account the heavy rain that started outside. 

Something groaned from above them, the horses started kicking up a fuss. 

Smash. 

Orange, thick tendrils slammed through the windows of the carriage, intent on filling up as much of the space inside as they could. 

“What the fuck!!!”

“Ç'est quoi ce bordel?! Caisson what did you PUT in that thing?!” 

Caisson backed himself against a wall as a precaution. He was safe from any real danger, of course. He made sure that every piece of clothing he owned was stitched with protection runes to keep him protected from any backfired magic. 

It was a pity Sable didn’t have anything similar

The creatures tentacles slithered around the ghost’s body, holding him in place and making him wet and sticky all over. 

Just as he opened his mouth to shout once again, a thinner tendril shoved itself down his throat, making the ghost gag and heave. 

God, it was tentacles. 

They slithered underneath his clothes, tearing the fine items at the seams and leaving goosebumps all over him. 

Another smaller one toyed at his entrance, the slimy limb squeezing in through tight muscles. If he was able to, he would have gasped. Tears rolled down his pale cheeks. 

The things fluttered inside of him, the sensation so weird and alien as he felt so full. 

If he cast his eyes downwards, he would catch sight of of tentacles indenting themselves through his skin, stretching him out to his very limit. 

If he was capable of any feelings of lust anymore, his eyes would have rolled back as it pressed up against his special spot, slamming itself over and over again as it tried to find more space to squeeze itself into. As it were, he simply weeped as he was invaded over and over again. 

The quarter of an hour passed, the maximum amount of time for magic to manifest like this. The tentacles grew smaller, retreating back through the windows from where they came. 

The rain stopped. 

Sable fell onto his hands and knees, coughing up something white and thick onto the wooden floor. 

“Hah, Ghosts and their ectoplasm.” Caisson joked, trying to lighten up the mood as best as he could after having watched the young man being impaled by his mistake. Obviously sorry wasn’t in the spellcaster's dictionary. 

Sable shot him the deadliest glare he could muster, intent on never returning for potions again.


	15. Harley (Uniform)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day fifteen: uniform
> 
> Not exactly what I originally set out to write but o well. Enjoy some shitty himbo angst?

He hadn't touched his old uniform in a long time.

Harley remembered the first time he ever put on the EXO blues, the pride that swelled within him for actually doing something that he set out to do and the sense of belonging that came with being part of a group. 

He wore the blues, and so did his many new brothers and sisters. 

He soon grew to hate what he had loved. 

Where he had loved being one simple part of the mechanism of many, he ended up feeling suffocated by feelings of insecurity. 

He was one of many. 

Expendable. 

He was so glad when he finally defected- following in the footsteps of others as more and more faces that he saw everyday left his life. 

At least- he had hoped that they defected. Scouts were never told if their brothers died, word of mouth from those that witnessed it being the only thing to keep others somewhat in the loop. 

He still kept it though. Every single part of the uniform was still packed away at the bottom of his bag, even after all these years. 

He knew Mim kept hers too, or at least some of it. Because on the occasions where their paths would meet sometimes he'd catch her sporting her trousers still. Sometimes one of her little adopted strays would be huddled in the under tunics, the familiar night sky navy fabric absolutely drowning the young boy. 

He didn't know how the little guy willingly wore those things though, the fabric was always so uncomfortable on his skin- making him feel like his flesh was crawling. 

He didn't know why he was thinking about it so intently, it was just clothes, for fucks sake. 

But hey, what was 3am for if not overthinking things from the past that don't matter? Sleeping? He thinks the fuck not. 

Harley lay on his back, staring up at the stars. His traveling companion, Ana, a few feet away in the little tent, dead to the world until the sun rose. 

That was all hers, even if it  _ had _ belonged to him. The girl would moan and complain all of the next day if he took the canvas shelter for himself and made her sleep out here, he knew that within minutes of knowing the girl. So their sleeping arrangements were set in place very early on. 

He eyed his backpack, lit up by the moonlight. If he was brimming with this much nostalgia (could he even call it  _ that, _ could he? It wasn't exactly the happiest memory for the most part) then maybe he should just dig out the remnants of his old life.

It couldn't hurt to just have a little look at it at the very least, right? 

Quiet as a mouse, he shifted himself out from the sleeping bag and snatched the bag, slowly zipping it open to reveal the contents within. He pushed aside some of the more important items to dig in deeper. 

His golden eyes widened as he caught a glimpse of blue. Finding his prize he yanked it out, the blue customized jacket freed from its constraining surroundings.

He sat on the warm bundles of fabric, long thick legs crossed, safe from the dirty ground. The jacket, worn and lovingly patched up in some places, lay on his lap. 

He went through a lot of work to change the thing after he left. Stumbling into Arrowwich, where he took a bounty in exchange for armfulls of supplies. He exited the small town with furs and studs and threads and everything he'd need to feel like an individual once again. It took him a while to get it looking the way he envisioned it. He wanted it to be familiar but still  _ different. _

_ To feel like him. _

Of course back then, he could have simply cast it all aside and just started anew. But there was always something stopping him. The coarse fabric was like a security blanket to the man. 

Even now, he felt a wave of comfort wash over him as he slid the familiar fabric over his bare shoulders, running his hands over his arms and shoving his face into the furrows collar, taking in the faint scent still embedded into the material. 

His hand slid downwards from the jacket to underneath his spanx, trailing down his golden tanned skin as it went. There wasn't much space down there with the tight material- so much different from the roomy pants still hidden away in the bag- but he enjoyed the way it felt, encasing his lower half like a second skin. 

It made masturbating a bit problematic with how little space he had to work with, but hey, he made it work. 

He gripped his member and stroked it with his ringed fingers. It had been a while since he last relieved himself, not finding many opportunities while traveling on foot in between the busiest sections of the country. They had their hands full. 

He lay back down, shuffling underneath the blanket once again for just a touch of privacy. His free hand brought the jacket up, covering the majority of his scarred face with it's comforting presence as he continued stroking. 

He bit his lip, a moan bubbling up in his throat that he urged away. 

_ "Oh god."  _ He whispered into the fabric. 

He continued thinking about the past. How much he enjoyed it while he was still so bright eyed and young. Sure he may put on a show of being positive nowadays, strutting around like a peacock in hopes of any form of validation. But when he had gotten this he was  _ so young _ , so happy and hopeful for a good future. 

Look at your future now, kid. Jerking off in the middle of nowhere thinking about about shit that doesn't matter, just wanting the rush of dopamine that came from it. 

His mind swirled with thoughts of how he'd wasted his time all these years with nothing to show for it as he jerked his hips, his body heating up. 

Maybe he couldn't get rid of his uniform because he didn't want to fully accept that the brief period of time where he felt happy, like he had somewhere to belong, was long gone. 

He came with a muffled cry, tears running down his cheeks as his blue dyed hair was in tangles around his neck. He pulled his hand out from his pants and wiped it on the stretchy material coating his meaty thigh. He wiped the wetness on his cheeks away with the back of his hand while he was at it too. 

Maybe now he could finally get some sleep, tired and still clad in nostalgic blues.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	16. Garfield/Oscar (Body Worship)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day sixteen: body worship 
> 
> once again, big garf is mr baby grinches
> 
> shorter than usually but alas.... it's something

"Listen champ, if ya wanna gimme a tummy rub ya' just gotta ask." Garfield announced, causing Oscar to jerk his head in the older man's direction, brown eyes wide.

He had been stealing glances all night, nerves welling up within him as he felt the rush of heat every time he caught sight of the other man's frame. He couldn't help it…. Garfield was just- augh. Words couldn't explain how frazzled he made the young medic. 

He stared, like a deer caught in the headlights, trying to gather himself enough to respond. 

"I…. Am I really that obvious?" He bit his lip, nervously playing with his hoodies lemon coloured sleeves.

"A little bit, yeah. But don't you worry 'bout that! Told you before, you don't have to be so nervous with me." He grinned and Oscar wanted to melt as he shifted to be even closer to the man.

With one last glance into Henry's eyes to make sure this was okay, his long nimble hands slid under Garfield's fishing shirt, his breath hitching in his throat as his fingers sunk into soft, squishy flesh. 

He ran his hands over the expanse of flesh, humming appreciatively as his palm went over the trail of hair that lead up to his navel. 

Garfield was the perfect mixture of strong and soft. With his broad back and chest and his chubby paunch. Everything about the older man's body made Oscar simultaneously want to hug the man and never let go  _ and _ want to explode right on the spot.

He felt guilty, sometimes. That he felt such an attraction to bodies like that. Because it was just a shape and people came in all sorts of those and really it  _ shouldn't matter _ . But just something about people's bodies being bigger than his own lanky frame worked him up.

Garfield's especially, though.

He slid the tshirt up so he could actually get a good look at the expanse of it, letting the fabric rest just above Henry's chest. 

_ God.  _

He was so soft and round and cute and warm and aaaaaaa _ aaaaaaaaaaaaa.  _

He remembered feeling so hot and bothered just from a single glance at the older man's body, back during that first shower. That rush never went away, no matter how many times Oscar got to see it. He was always left with his head, usually so full of worries, feeling light. His heart fuzzy. 

He gently pried his palms underneath the soft curve of his stomach ( _ and shuddered with pleasure at the slight ripple the action sent through his flesh)  _ appreciating just how round it was as he bent down, peppering him with kisses, working his way past his navel to the crest of his tummy all the way up to his chest, planting one last kiss (for now) above his heart.

Oscar broke his gaze away from the man's body to shyly look up at his face, caught off guard by the adoring stare the man was looking at him with.

"Don't mind me." He grinned, his eyes sparkling. "Just always surprises me that a cute handsome boy like you can love this so much, heh." He said, looking downwards, hand pinching his own fleshy side. 

"!!!" His eyebrows raised, wrinkling his brow, not that it could be seen from where he buried his head into Garfield's chest. "How could I  _ not?"  _ He croaked, heart hammering in his ears. 

"You are amazing an-and handsome and sometimes I feel like my brains short circuiting because I can't j-just express how  _ much I love this!"  _ He exclaimed, muffled ever so slightly by the fact he couldn't bring himself to lift his bright red face up to look at the other man's face as he got that off his chest, just simply sinking his hands into Garfield's chub to get his point across. 

Garfield's thick arms threw themselves around his lithe back, holding the medic close to him as he rested his chin on the crown of curly brown locks. 

" _ Aw, Champ…"  _


	17. Ounce (Collaring)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day seventeen: collaring
> 
> let things pile up again because im an idiot. 
> 
> same as before. jakkal and pierce are babygrinch1399's.

The lack of weight around his neck felt wrong. 

He missed it. 

He knew he shouldn’t have. There was nothing good to miss- he knew that what he had went through was horrendous. 

But god, sometimes he’d catch sight of his neck. Bare yet still marred with His presence, and it’d make his head hurt, like stones were poured in between his ears until there was space for no more.  _ It was wrong _ . 

Simply zipping his jacket all the way up did nothing to help. Ounce could still feel the phantom weight of leather, threatening to take his breath away. Simple cotton did nothing to remedy that, the baggy fabric wouldn’t stay flush with his flesh, it was intended for someone bigger than him.  _ (He could feel His hands around his fragile neck, fingers meeting fingers with ease) _

Sometimes on the days where he couldn’t get his brain to match his poker face, he would retreat into anywhere with an ounce ( _ Ha. _ ) of privacy. He zip down his jacket, discard his undergarments and raise his own bony hands up, pressing down around his neck, trying to match the pressure he had grown to know as a part of his life. 

Very early on when he had been taken prisoner in that cursed room, sometime during the first few days he was sure; He had slid a finger under the leather, the sound of a bell jingling as it clattered against the name tag that hung down like a pendant. Showcasing his status as His property. 

He tutted at the space still available and slid the leather out of the loop, pulling it tighter until he saw stars. 

Seemingly happy, he had sealed it shut back again, and patted Ounce on his freshly washed head before pushing down, bending the poor young man over before roughly taking him. 

His own hands never made a match for what he loathed longing for. 

He was thankful he was allowed these moments to himself. He didn’t know how to tell them but he truly was thankful for his friends during the weeks after

But he wouldn’t be able to handle the pity in their eyes if they caught him like this, writing on the floor, miserably grasping at his throat while clenching his legs together. 

Eventually he’d give up, not being able to achieve the same sensation and feeling a wave of shame wash over him afterwards. 

Sometimes, after he ended up just resigning himself to the negative feelings weighing him down, he’d let them drag him down to the floor. Laying there until he gathered his wits enough to get up and go back to trying to pretend that he wasn’t as frayed as he actually was. 

Sometimes, Jakkal would pop his head in, if he spent long enough wallowing away. He was sunshine and safety. The slightly older muscular young man would crouch over him and brush a strand of limp, grease ridden hair ( _ He _ wouldn’t have been happy about that… Good pretty girls needed to take care of their hair.) away from his tired face. His touch gentle despite his massive, strong hands. 

He’d lean his head into the touch, a soft hum emitting from his throat, a far cry away from flinching away as he had done only a few weeks prior. 

Sinfully- he thought that the larger man’s hands would probably do the job of replacing his old collar. He was strong, almost frightfully so, but he didn’t want to… associate him with that. It seemed almost as wrong as how light his head felt. 

He felt guilty enough every time he enlisted Jakkal’s help with his…. Other urges. The fact that it was Jakkal who offered his services in the situation- his sex drive was no secret and ever since Ounce had been taken away, the switch that turned his own on was flipped and he had no clue know how to turn it off- didn’t help sooth his brain. 

Before, Jakkal was one of the most tolerable people he knew. He respected that the sniper had limits when it came to being social and didn’t completely try to invade that. That was before though. If he went back into isolation after going through what he had went through- he feared for what he may have done. Probably crawl back to  _ Him,  _ as much as the thought of it made him shudder. If not that then he certainly wouldn’t be in as much control of his thoughts as he currently was; with the much needed support and comfort he was being provided with, though it wasn’t like Ounce was in a total clear state of mind, either. 

That much was obvious. 

Regardless of that; the muscular man was a help. A much appreciated help. He longed to make up for it, to fall back into his previous routine of  _ pleasing.  _ But Jakkal shook his head, telling him in his accented voice that _ he didn’t need to worry about him. He just had to focus on his own needs, instead of others.  _

What he fucking needed was his twisted version of a security blanket. He didn’t want it, he knew he shouldn’t want it.

But he needed it. 

Maybe he should just see if he could scavenge a replacement of some sort. The idea of a belt of some sort didn’t seem like it’d be the exact same- and would most likely be impossible to hide underneath his clothes, baggy as they may be. He wouldn’t want anyone who cast their eyes on him to see it… he felt his chest constrict at just thinking about it. He missed his cloak. It would have been so easy to hide with his bundle of tan, ragged fabric. 

But it’d possibly be better than facing the conflicted feelings of yearning and guilt and disgust that he alternated between every day. 

He should feel lucky that he still wasn't there. Chained up like an animal. Treated like some sort of exotic pet. 

But some small part of him  _ didn’t.  _

  
  
  
  



	18. Mags/Sylvia (Latex)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day eighteen: latex
> 
> sylvia is babygrinch1399's.

If given the chance to go out shopping to buy clothes, Mags would already be out the door and on her way down the road. 

She didn’t care how stereotypically girlish that was of her, she was a girl! And besides, her younger brother was the exact same. 

She just loved fashion. And being able to change how she looked depending on how she felt and most importantly; she loved looking good for her wife. 

She loved keeping her on her toes- when Sylvia seemingly got used to her breaking out the floral dresses- she’d pull out plaids and leathers, matching with her wife’s general aesthetic. When she wore those for long enough, it’d be fashionably oversized hoodies and pleated skirts, and so on and so on. 

Basically, Mag’s wardrobe was near enough filled and the woman made sure to put each piece to use. 

That wouldn’t stop her from going out for more though, this was her hobby and she loved it. Especially seeing as how she had caught sight of something and she knew that if she didn’t get it, she’d regret it. 

That was how she came home, a fancy white bag hanging off her forearm as her other hand scrolled through her phone, using her hip to bump the door close. She didn’t bother calling out, alerting her wife to her presence, as she knew the dark haired woman wasn’t in. 

That was one of the reasons she why she out shopping today. Sylvia’s nightclub was having it’s first proper night of business tonight and there was no way the couple wasn’t going to celebrate that. 

She made her way down the staircase to the bedroom, her heels clacking on the laminate floor as she went. There was only a few hours before she had to be there, intending on meeting her busy working wife there just before the doors opened. 

She threw her dress over her head and into the laundry hamper nearby as soon as she got into the bathroom. Well, at first she placed her phone on the countertop, just having finished sending a string of hearts to her wife. 

She looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her golden skin gleaming in the light. She reached behind her to take off her bra, for the dress she acquired today wouldn’t need it underneath. 

She let it drop and then took the tie holding her curly, locks up in a bun. They bounced down, finally free. 

She spent a good hour fussing with her hair and makeup, making sure she looked the very best she could before reaching into the shopping bag, pulling out her prize.

Pink latex, with the back cut out, and shining jewels adorning the thin spaghetti straps. 

It was everything she could have wanted. 

Mags slipped into it, the tight fabric squeaking as she wiggled her way in. It took far longer than it reasonably should have to get a dress on but she at last got it on. She turned, gazing at herself in the mirror. It hugged every inch of her body and she knew she looked gorgeous, the pink shining beautifully against her tanned skin. 

It was shorter than she thought it was going to be, but in her eyes, that wasn’t a bad thing. 

She opened a drawer, pulling out a little jewelry box. From within that, she adorned herself with a silver choker, lined with jewels similar to the straps and shining earrings, that swung as she moved. Happy enough with that, she left the bathroom, intent on quickly grabbing her fluffy white fur coat and white heels to swap out for the ones she left the house in earlier. These were her  _ prettiest _ pair.

  
  
  
  


If it wasn’t for the fact that she could barely move, she would have just driven her bike down. Saying that though, as much as she loved the feeling of wind on her tanned, freckled face- it wasn’t the best when you spent an age dolling yourself up. 

She reveled in the way Sylvia’s icy blue eyes lit up when she exited the cab. She gave the driver a few bills before slamming the door shut. As fast as she could, she made her way over to the other woman, they embraced each other, holding one another close in their arms as they shared a kiss. Mag’s cast a glance out to the long, long line of people waiting to get in a grinned. “I take it business is going well?” She laughed. 

“Yeah, you could say.” Sylvia responded, breaking their hug apart but replacing the form of contact with a hand on the small of Mags’ back. 

She pulled her jacket into her arms as she turned away, speaking a few quick words to a face she recognised, and made a point to show off the low cut back of the dress, proudly displaying the inked carp swimming on her back. She joined her wife once again, not missing the way her gaze took a moment to stray from her body. 

“You look gorgeous, beautiful.” Her wife spoke, tone soft as she opened the door

They made their way in just ahead of the crowd and it didn’t take long for the building to be filled up. Lights flashing, music pounding, people having a good time. Sylvia’s weeks of hard work definitely seemed to have paid off. 

They danced for a while, but eventually they gave that a rest to sit in the seats overlooking the dance floor, Mags making herself at home on her wife’s lap. 

Speaking of her wife, it was obvious she appreciated her purchase. Her hands running up and down the shiny, tight fabric while they sat and talked, occasionally breaking out into kisses when the music drowned out their conversation.

“You need to wear this more often.” Sylvia moaned, grabbing onto Mags’ nearly exposed ass who only barely just heard her over the pounding beat. 

“Can do~” She giggled, running her own hand down the length of her body, from her breasts down to the top of her thighs. 

“I’m going to go get a drink, be back in a moment~” She announced, kissing her wife’s cheek, leaving a telltale pink smudge on the pale surface behind as she rose up out of her lap. She pulled the rising, skin tight fabric down before winking as she slinked her way to the bar. She didn't need to look over her shoulder to know light blue eyes watched the way her ass swayed as she strutted away.


	19. Oscar/Garfield (ABO)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day nineteen: alpha/beta/omega
> 
> I didn't like any of the this days kinks so I substituted ;7; bc abo is one of my biggest guilty pleasures as someone who is both a) a furry b) frequented hetalia mpreg fanfics as a 12 yr old
> 
> garf and claudia copyright Mr baby grinch

It was bound to happen sooner or later.

Oscar, when he met Claudia and Garfield kickstarting their little family of misfits, had about half of his heat suppressants pills left, safely tucked away in the bottom of his bag 

Every morning- he took one. The last thing he wanted was to become even more useless and be the reason someone got hurt (or back when it was just him, it was a means of taking care of himself. Who knows what could happen to him if a passing by alpha caught scent of him, an unmated, fertile omega all on his own) just because of his dumb biology. Besides- it helped dampen the sweet floral scent he emitted, which was handy for a number of reasons. 

He knew that they were running out, he had a head full of worries, of course he knew that the number of them left continued dropping. But he couldn't exactly just go and grab more- these were from his mother's stash- she never taught him how exactly to make these and he couldn't exactly just ask her. So unless he found a replacement- he was screwed.

He was devastated when he finally worked up the courage to ask Robbie- thinking she a fellow omega due to her caring and motherly nature. The lack of a scent from her wasn't because she had her own supply of pills- it was because she simply didn't have one. Beta. 

He was the only omega in their group, it turned out. Though he wondered if anyone else knew that. He certainly didn't have the frame of one- matching heights with some alphas, even if he was skinny as a stick. The lack of scents and monthly heats too helped keep his nature mysterious. 

Even though he certainly was skittish- he assumed the rest thought that he was simply a beta. A nervous, lanky beta.

He teared up when the bottle was left empty, his breath hitching after he swallowed that last pill. 

He'd never took a heat beyond his very first one, many years ago. Dal kept him on the suppressants because she knew from experience with the life they lived- they sometimes couldn't deal with being predisposed for so long. 

It had been quite a few years since he was 16- sweating and having a horrible time in their tent and yet he could still remember flashes of it clear as day. 

He wrung his hands as a low whine nearly escaped his throat, he didn't want to feel like that again. He didn't want to be a burden. 

_

He usually never went without at least two layers of clothing on, maybe even three. But today he was absolutely melting. He tied the yellow fabric of his hoodie around his lithe waist. 

He didn't miss the fact that no one else was sweating. Not even Claudia, clad in armour. 

He whined quietly, knowing exactly what was about to strike him. 

He and Garfield weren't mated- but each had an interest in each other, that much was obvious. 

In that aspect he was glad that the older man was the one to approach him rather than any possible alpha. He liked Garfield. He really did. The man was kind and strong and soft and made Oscar laugh and feel safe. 

He couldn't remember much of the week that passed but by the end of it he was curled up in Garfield's arms, the pair of them naked and covered in a blanket. He felt absolutely tired and dirty with sweat and other things. But he couldn't deny how happy he felt. 

He was Garfield's and Garfield was his.

_

He was just beginning to show.

When he pulled up the baggy sunshine coloured hoodie and looked at his reflection, he just see the slightest little curve. Just enough cop in it his palm. 

He was trained from a very young age by his fellow omega mother in most things medical. He knew all the signs and he could feel it in his heart. He was carrying a small life within him. 

His and Garfield's baby. 

If you spent a long time going without heats, some said that your first one back left you extra fertile. Your body trying to make up for lost time. He wasn't sure if that was the case or what but it didn't matter. 

He hadn't told his alpha just yet, but he suspected that the larger man may have picked up on the change in his scent. May have caught on… who knows though. He'd need to figure out how to spit it out soon though, he couldn't keep it a secret. 

Concern walked up within him though, he was awful tall and lanky for an omega. Enough so that it wasn't until he was wracked with heat that the rest of the group realized. 

There was a reason why most omegas were short and compact, with soft plush parts. It made the whole act of carrying and childbirth so much easier. He knew Claudia had carried a baby before- a rarity for an alpha- and even though he'd never ask her about it, bringing up old wounds wasn't something he wanted to do, it was obvious from the plushness that still clung to her. 

He bit his lip, absentmindedly rubbing the tiny little bump, letting the hoodie swallow him back up as he got caught up in his nervous mind. Hands so used to the motion from giving numerous tummy rubs to his alpha. He hoped he could keep it safe. He knew how to patch up and mend everyone else in their group but he couldn't apply that here. 

His nesting instincts had gone up through the roof recently as well- not that they weren't there to begin with, of course not, even while suppressed he still liked as baggy and comfy of clothing as possible- feeling so safe in the valleys of fabrics- but as of late he'd meticulously place and arrange anything soft he could get his hands into his seat in the car. The best of which was one of Garfield's worn shirts- the comforting item provided a contrasting scent to the overwhelming smell of flowers. 

He felt bad for the rest of their group, having to put up with his needs. He pilfered their spare blankets and whatnot with an apology but he couldn't help it. His body was absolutely screaming at him to nest nest nest nest nest. He wouldn't feel as anxious and worried if he made his little space comfy. 

The only one he'd let actually touch it was Garfield though (His mate! His brain would scream with glee every time he remembered that they were a mated pair!) The second anyone tried grabbing anything out from what in their eyes, looked like a pile of fabrics, he'd become almost pathetic, a keening sound escaping him and panic rising as they messed it up. They got a hang of leaving it be soon enough, thankfully. 

He felt equal parts guilty and ecstatic when he saw the fierce protectiveness rise up in Henry's face when he caught him all upset over it. Guilty because it was no big deal, the rational part of his brain knew that. But his heightened instincts didn't. 

But also, when he wrapped him up in his big strong arms, telling him that he was alright. Oscar wanted to melt. Or be a permanent fixture in those arms. 

God. He loved him so much. 

He looked down once again, the tiny bump wasn't noticeable through his t-shirt and it certainly wasn't through his hoodie either, but just knowing that it was there at all made him smile. 


	20. Mags/Sylvia (Emeto)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day twenty: emetophillia 
> 
> continuation of the latex chapter? 
> 
> once again, Sylvia is @babygrinch1399's

She was never going to drink again. 

She'll sooner take a shot to the skull than go anywhere near an actual shot. 

Mags was having a good time. It was her wife's big night and they were having a great time enjoying the club. 

That was until she swore the room started spinning around her. She clung to one of the high top tables as she wavered on her heels. 

Mags felt horrid.

She ran as fast as she could for the bathroom, the heel of her shoe cracking as she painfully stumbled away. She didn't even care, something was going to come up and she would curl up and die if she puked in the crowd of people. 

The door to the bathroom slammed open, her head pounding in time with the now quietness music as she made for one of the stalls. 

She collapsed over it, bouncy curls hanging in her face as she heaved. Alcohol and bile leaving her lips and causing her squeezed shut eyes to tear up, mascara and eyeliner streaking down her freckled cheeks as she continued heaving. 

She felt numb as she rested her cheek against the cool porcelain, showing how truly out of it she was. Mags was the type of girl to put toilet paper on the seat if it was any but her own. 

But right now thoughts of germs didn't pop up in her mind. She felt too sick and shaky to do anything bar lay there like a puppet with it's strings cut off. 

Just as she thought it was done, she felt another painful churn from her stomach as the very last of it's contents escaped her pink lips. A dribble of it dripped out onto her chin as she cried. 

_ She really didn't feel good.  _

It could have been minutes or it could have been hours later when she felt hands rubbing her exposed back and a wet piece of toilet paper rubbing her face, attempting to clear the majority of the sick away.

When she looked up, her vision still spun. But she could still make out that it was her wife. 

" _ Sylviaaaaaa _ ." She moaned, usual light voice somewhat raspy due to her throat being burned with bile. She gave her a sad look. She was a state, a far cry different from the way she started the night. With vomit on her chin and hair, her makeup ruined and her thin shoulders shaking. "'M sorry, I'll be out in a minute." She tiredly mumbled, trying to draw enough strength to pull herself up. 

"Glad you think so." Sylvia countered, crouching down and lifting her wife up into her arms bridal style. Mags weakly wiggled before just sinking into the touch. "Let's get you home." She pressed a kiss to her sweaty forehead as she stepped out, taking a less crowded route to exit the club. 

"But-.... your club…" Mags quietly protested as they left through the doors, the night cool and dark. 

"-Can wait." She finished the sentence for Mags. "You however can't." 


	21. Ounce (Food Play)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day twenty one: food play
> 
> pierce is once again the sexy creation of babygrinch1399.

Hunger frayed his edges. 

His Master sat as regally as he could be, muscular thighs splayed wide and his arms doing something at the table. 

He hadn't been given permission to stand so his gaze wasn't high enough to see what, but with the way his nose twitched and stomach gurgled- he had a brief idea. 

" _ Princess. Come here."  _ He said, patting his lap.

Obediently, he shuffled over, not daring the stand for he had not been asked to and placed his chin on Pierce's thigh, ignoring the way his stomach growled at him, demanding food. 

Good girls didn't make demands, they did what they were told. 

His black eyes rose up, staring at his master's face, waiting to be told what to do next, he was  _ good. He was good. _

He didn't bother to give him an order just _ yet. _ As soon as his princess reached him he picked up his utensils, strong hands delicately holding silverware. Another churn of hunger escaped his stomach when he could smell the exact moment He cut into the meat. 

He watched as 

A knife was dipped under his chin, tilting his head back up to stare Pierce in the eye. 

" _ Is my Princess hungry _ ?" He asked, getting a whine in response. He hummed, predatory eyes staring down. "If she makes herself useful, she may eat." He took the knife away and went straight back to his own meal, trusting that the pale face would disappear between his thighs without further prompting. 

And that was exactly what he did, positioning himself underneath the table, his skinny frame sandwiched between two slack covered legs. 

He tentatively raised his weak arms up to unzip His trousers, bony hands freeing his masters familiar cock from it constraints. He slid his mouth over it with a now practised ease, pale lips stretched around the thick member. 

He got to work in a daze, bobbing his head and trying not to gag when he took the full length down his throat, trying not to scrape the sensitive skin with his sharp teeth. He had already learned that lesson.

He pulled away from the cock with a loud audible pop when eventually that salty liquid streamed down his throat. 

He set his cutlery down and lowered his hand to his princess' chin. His thumb gathered up the dribble of white -matching the locks of hair that was due for a clean soon- that escaped the others mouth. 

He pushed his sticky thumb into the others mouth, demanding that the he lick it clean. 

He felt the wet appendage slide around his finger, his dear princess trying her best to not let any of the cum to go to waste.

Pulling his hand away forcefully, he raised it up to inspect, leaving the white haired man in a daze. 

He seemed it go enough, and allowed the snow swarm to rest his head on his thigh once again, thin arms clinging to his calf while the man took a long, thoughtful sip of his drink. 

"I suppose you've earned it." He spoke, not missing the way his princess' head jerked up, dark eyes staring at him. He speared a piece of the meat from his plate onto the knife, sharp blade glistening out from under the rare steak.

He lowered it down to below hungry, starving eyes. His lips, the makeup that was applied this morning smudged from his previous

"Eat." He commanded, giving permission to go ahead. Curled upper lip revealed sharp teeth that snatched at the piece, a moment away from swallowing it whole. 

“Not too fast.” Pierce ordered, tone cold and cutting through the air. The hungry being before him stopped, though it took a lot of willpower to do so. He so desperately wanted to eat while he had the chance, but had to settle for chewing on it momentarily. 

He saw Pierce’s expecting gaze. 

He gulped the meat down slowly. 

“Good girl.” He ran his hand through the head of ivory strands, his other taking the knife and getting another piece. Just as that hungry mouth tried to snap at the next piece, he pulled it away slightly, finding amusement in the pathetic way his princess tried shifting to follow it.

There were only two pieces left, one he fed to the other the same way as the previous two.

The juices that ran down the blade were cleaned without prompting, his princess running a tongue down the length of the shining metal. 

The last piece he pinched with own fingers and held in front of the others maw. With less enthusiasm as the rest he approached, tongue peeking out and fangs catching onto the meat as he relished what would possibly be the only thing he ate for a while. He even made sure that not a drop was leftover on his Master’s fingers.

Scraps off another man’s plate and cum were not considered a meal to anyone else, but to him it was better than nothing.

  
  
  
  
  
  



	22. Mat/Vincent (Handjob)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day twenty two: handjobs
> 
> yay! actually caught up *looks at clock* ....ten minutes before the 22nd ended. 
> 
> fuck it. still caught up regardless.
> 
> vincent @babygrinch1399's

“Ya’ sure y’dont want me taking over the driving?” Mat asked his partner as they rode down a long stretch of road. 

It had been a long day, and a long night before that. To say the pair were eager to get back home was an understatement. 

“Yeah, for the last time I’m sure. No offense but I’d rather wring your neck before I’d let you drive this.” Vincent joked, at least Mat hoped it was a joke. But knowing his love for the car it was a coin toss whether or not he actually meant that. 

It was almost enough to make a guy jealous, how much he loved this car.

A bad idea popped into Mat’s brain. But he didn’t know how to filter those away so, the sandy haired acted on it. Besides, looking out at the road there was nothing but straight road.

“Fucking hell- I’m driving!” Vincent barked as Mat’s arm snaked over to his crotch and with expert ease, undid the belt and button with one hand. 

“Wha’ Vince? Thought you were a great driver~” He teased, grinning cheekily, dimples clear as day as his teal eyes shone. He pulled Vincent’s dick out from their denim constraints and grasped it in his broad hand. His nails were painted but only barely so. The black polish was probably stolen from Raven but he could probably do with stealing some more, what with how chipped it was.

Vincent glared in his partner’s general direction before pulling his attention back to the road, he even attempted to pry one hand away to swat the shorter man’s hand away. There was no stopping him though so he sighed, and tried to focus on driving until he could pull the car over or something. He pulled his hand away and Vincent almost let out a sigh of relief (Not that he didn’t like getting his dick played with from the other- but just there’s a time and a place) 

Almost being the keyword. In a flash he spat on his palm and reached back over for his member, starting to stroke it.

Horny little bastard. 

His grip was just tight enough to make Vincent want to buck his hips and shift in his seat. His pace was almost slow, but that didn’t help him out any. It just teased him. 

His grip on the wheel tightened until his knuckles were bone white. 

  
  


He had learned in the time they’d spent together just how Vincent liked it and certainly hadn’t forgotten. His wet hand making the darker haired man bury groans in his throat before they escaped his mouth. 

He spotted somewhere to park and immediately turned the car, pulling in and taking his booted foot off the pedal. With a groan he turned to see Mat, face red and intently smiling as he stroked his partner. His free hand propping his stubbled chin up, elbow resting on his leather clad knee. 

“What? Knew ya’ wouldn’t crash or anything.” 

Vincent scrunched up his face for a second, only to be stopped as Mat increased his pace. He threw his head back against the headrest and covered his eyes with his forearm. 

“You are a fucking menace.” He groaned deeply. 

“You love me, but.” 

God, he did. 

It didn’t take long for him to cum, his hips raising up from the leather padded seat of the car as he gasped. He lowered his arm to see Mat raised his sticky fingers to his own mouth and suck the semen off of them. He threw a tired Look at his partner, who rolled his own eyes in response. He dug through the side of the seat and pulled out a stray napkin, flinging it at the other man.

“So- Can I drive now?” He asked, trying his luck while Vincent cleaned himself off.

“ _ Fuck off, Mat.”  _ Vincent replied, tone exasperated.

  
  



	23. Marcy/Reese (Shibari)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day twenty three: shibari
> 
> oops! more girl time!! 
> 
> once again marcy is @babygrinch1399's character and god do i love her. an angel. a cutie. a blessing.

“Quit squirming, baby.” 

“Heh- But I can’t help it! It’s too tickly!” Marcy responded, trying to hold in giggles as Reese’s hands deftly worked around her body. 

Ever since Marcy heard about shibari- she knew she wanted the pretty ropes all over her. Bondage but with cute colours and patterns? Yes please! 

But she didn’t think of just how much she’d be teased by the feeling of it all. 

Reese’s hands ghosted over her skin as she pulled and tied the rope in the most intricate of patterns- likely memorized due to the fact she was so confidently doing them, not even glancing at any form of picture or reference. 

She looked down to see her cute, petite breasts and chest so delicately yet securely wrapped in the red rope. It wasn’t a simple matter of it being just pulled around her and leaving it at that, oh no. Reese was putting her self to work with this, there was so many tiny knots and twists and and other things Marcy couldn’t really describe but she knew they were pretty. 

And her Mommy did them just for her, just because she asked her to do it. (With a pretty please, of course! She was a good girl!)

The feeling of the rope itself on her soft, pale skin was sensational as well. Just burning ever so slightly enough to make her curl her lips and  _ squirm. _

Thus her conundrum. 

Reese paused, the length of garnet rope still clutched in her hands as she gave Marcy somewhat stern look. 

“Now, how am I meant to do this if you don’t stay still? Baby girl, you do want this, don’t you?” She teashed, tone breathy as she slightly dragged her manicured nails down the flesh of Marcy’s soft thigh, making the girl gasp as pink lines were left in their wake. They’d fade soon- but god, did it excite the younger woman. 

“Yes!!! Of course I do!” She bit her smiling lip, looking down bashfully. “It just feel  _ so good, _ I can’t help it!” She explained, wiggling slightly. 

“Mmm.” Reese hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe I just need to tie you up tight enough that you can’t squirm any more.” The blonde tilted her head, long wavy locks spilling over her shoulder. Her blue eyes looked over the darker haired girls body and she nodded confidently to herself. 

She pushed Marcy down onto the bed and lifted her legs up with ease. Listening to the giggles the younger girl let out she got to work, securing her thighs together. Her black coated lips cocked up into a smile at the sight of flesh ever so slightly squishing out between the tight ropes. 

She leaned down and gave it a quick kiss, leaving the dark imprint of her love behind on the pale flesh. 

God, she loved kissing her baby. 

She worked her way down the length of Marcy’s body with the rope, never once applying any less care as she did when starting. 

As she got to the final knot at her ankles, she was still left with quite a considerable amount of rope left- this was intended for someone taller, she supposed. But this worked to her advantage. 

She had never been one for bows, but she searched through her mind trying to remember how to tie a pretty one. 

Fairly confident that this was the right method, she twisted the rope into loops and pulled, leaving her precious gift with a bow to top it all off. 

“There we go, precious.” She said, looking up at Marcy’s giddy, red face. Reese’s thoughts were instantly consumed with how adorable her girl was. 

Marcy squeaked in delight as she looked down at Reese’s handiwork. It was just as beautiful as she had hoped it would be. “Ah!! Thank you, Mommy!” She couldn’t stop smiling. “I love you!”

She crawled up over Marcy’s prone form, arms on either side of the others body to hold herself up as she kissed every inch of the raven haired girl’s body. The sound of giggles from the other were a delight to her ears and when she finally reached the top of her, she supported the rest of her own weight with one arm. The other tilted Marcy’s chin up so the pair could lock lips. 

Reese broke away, the pair panting. “I love you too, Baby.” She said fondly, tenderness visible in her eyes. 

  
  
  
  
  
  



	24. Jakkal/Ounce (Shower/Bath)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day twenty four: shower/bath
> 
> please pray for me to get through the last of these
> 
> as usual, jakkal is not mine. he's babygrinch1399's sexy beef man that im just borrowing to write about yanno

He rarely bathed before.

When Ounce spent days long perched in the trees- he didn’t need to worry about his hair laying like a limp halo around his skull. Or about his pale, ivory skin being marred by dirty, brown smudges. These things paid him no bother. 

But under His care. He inflicted so much on him. So much to leave him dirty, stained. His dark blood left him tainted with painful streaks that still felt like they had been embedded into his skin.

He felt so dirty now. There was none of the things being thrust upon him anymore to mark him so, nothing like what he experienced during those two months. 

But the thing was, he wasn’t being  _ told by Him _ to go bathe. So he just simply didn’t. He knew that he wasn’t under His control any longer.

He was free.

But that didn't stop him from being under his influence. So he was torn between thinking that he could only do something should Pierce wish it- and wanting to be rid of the nastiness that seemed to cling to him like a second skin. 

Ounce knew as well that his current state would have resulted in a punishment- but he had the cold commanding tone to order him to go wash before he would get to this state, before. 

  
  


Jakkal, it seemed, eventually took note of his fellow swarm’s discomfort. The way he half heartedly glared at his greasy strands of hair and seemed to be so uncomfortable in his skin. 

He had even said to him that if he wanted to, he could go clean up. He was welcome to. 

But he was yet to take up the offer.

So he decided to take matters into his own hands and give Ounce more of a shove in the right direction- in the direction of recovery. 

It was tough love, but it was love nonetheless, he guessed, as he just decides to pick him up in his arms with ease, heading towards his direction.

He was a big fan of the showers in their new surroundings. He remembered Eli excitedly telling him that it can 'rain indoors!' here. Sure he himself was good enough at keeping himself clean back in the white zone- but it always without fail left him uncomfortable, always fearing that the water would freeze over again in the short bursts he'd dip in to clean himself. 

This though, the handful of times he'd stood under the warm spray of water he felt so soothed- and he hoped that it would have the same effect on Ounce, too.

He set the other man down and explained to him that he was doing, while stripping him of clothes he probably had not took off since receiving. Ounce, with a blank face, took it into his own hands and kicked off the last of his coverings with just the slightest hint of timidity, though the way he stood there, completely bare, showed how used to it that the other had grown. A far difference from the way he remembered him presenting himself, usually so modest, covered up with so many different layers. 

A difference that truly made his heart ache. 

Putting on a supportive face for his friend, he dropped off what little clothing he himself had on and dragged Ounce into the little cubicle. He reached over with his thick arm to turn on the knob for the water- just so slightly lukewarm. Boiling hot water was an option available but not very likely one that looked tempting to either of the two snow swarm. 

Jakkal watched as the water overhead made Ounces hair drip down even more down his gaunt face while he himself reached up to tug at his own hair.

It had been a while since he’d let down his braids to give them a wash- but he figured Ounce would probably fair better with the idea he had brewing in his brain. When it was down, the pair’s hair near enough matched in length, of course that and the shared ivory colour was where the similarities ended. The larger male’s hung down in the most subtle of waves- most likely due to being braided for so very long. Alongside that the sides of his skull were shaved in very close to the scalp. A very noticeable difference to the limp, sad locks that hung in Ounce’s face. 

There was a bottle of the soapy stuff on a little metal shelf nearby, so he took some and squirted a considerable amount into his broad palms, clicking his tongue against his sharp pointed teeth when some dripped over. 

“Look, see? It’s good for both of us.” Jakkal comforted, taking Ounces hands in his own and raising them to his own scalp, assisting bony paws in dragging through his loose locks. “You’re helping me, bro. Just like how I’ll help you, yeah?” He spoke, hoping his words would ease the part of Ounce's mind that begged to make himself of some sort of use. 

He tentatively let his grip go slack, feeling satisfied when Ounce's hands stayed where he left them- just gently scratching his fingers absentmindedly through Jakkal's scalp.

He took the leftover shampoo and softly sifted his big palms through Ounce's own, reaching behind pointed ears to lather up locks. The smaller male seemed to lean into the touch, his dark eyes closing. 

He worked at the roots, letting the bubbles work their ways down wispy strands of hair, slowly he moved his way down. Jakkal paid close attention to Ounces face, trying to detect if he was uncomfortable at any point. (it was easier to do that now- he showed more expression nowadays) At no sign of such, he continued on. His hands wandered lower over the lithe body, scrubbing the sweat and grime away from him, all the while paying close attention to see if anything bothered him. 

Eventually, he shifted the both of them to be more directly under the spray, the water washing away all the suds from the pair. 

Ounces hands left his scalp while Jakkal thanked him, reaching over to shut off the water. 

He stood there, looking at little lost with his thin shoulders hunched up. (He had somehow put on a little bit of weight in the few weeks he was taken- just a sliver of flesh where there used to be none. But he was still so slight. So small- tugging on Jakkal's protective heartstrings.) His eyes were cast down to the ground.

  
  


It was a sorry sight. But at the very least, he wasn’t filthy anymore. That would go a long way for making him feel better. 

Grabbing a towel, he gently flung it over the other swarm, embracing him in its fluffy embrace. 

“C’mon, bro. Let’s you all dried up.”


	25. Garfield/Oscar (Olfactophilia)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day twenty five: olfactophilia
> 
> me realizing i could get away with writing more abo for this day: >:) 
> 
> me remembering that i have No sense of smell and would be completely lost writing this: <:( 
> 
> im just winging it   
everyone bar oscar and robbie are @babygrinch1399's

He couldn't exactly put his finger on what it was, but something felt different.

The past few days, something has been urging him at the back of his mind.  _ Something different. _

  
  


Garfield turned to the other alpha of their little group, Claudia, a few days into this. He asked her if she'd noticed anything weird.

The ginger nodded, pausing what she was doing, agreeing with him that there was some form of new scent in the air. Robbie, Claudia’s elegant Beta mate rose the point that it could be a lot of things, as people’s scents could vary a lot depending on a number of things.

The big man hummed, trying to work out what it could possibly be, rubbing his chin as he thought. It was too early for the rest of them to be up just yet, so he couldn’t ask if anyone else knew what it may be. 

He didn't need to think that hard. Later on in the morning, just short of properly becoming day, Oscar, the young man he harboured such strong feelings for, collapsed all of a sudden out of nowhere. 

"Whoa- Champ!" He called out, concern welling up within him. He was their good little doctor, he was the one with the bright mind filled with knowledge on what to do in situations like these. Bad things weren’t allowed to happen to him!

The brunette whined as sweat dripped off of his forehead. It wasn't just his forehead, his black t-shirt was damp and clung to his frame as he shifted against the ground.

He had wondered about his champ's nature in the past, because he certainly had the nervous brain of on omega but lacked many of the other things associated with it. Plus- he didn't give off any kind of kind of telltale scents. So he just assumed the lanky young man was another one of the betas that made up the majority of the world, and the majority of their little family.

Any thoughts concerning assuming Oscar was a Beta had just been thrown out of the window when he caught a whiff of the smell radiating off of the younger man. 

Flowers. Like the few days where spring melded into summer. Sweet. 

It was one of the nicest things he’d ever smelt. 

It was only his surprise at the situation and his self restraint that stopped him from shoving his face against the delicate neck, just to get a chance of taking in more of that smell.

"He's an omega...?" He spoke quietly, confused. "Holy heck! He's an omega!" Louder as he took in that overwhelming scent, it was so strong now that he was so close. 

Tapeworm and Amber peered over with curious eyes, concerned but obviously not long up as evident from their sleepy expressions. “He’s an omega? He never told any of us..” Amber sleepily but seriously spoke, the little blond young girl looking on. Behind the pair, Claudia and Robbie rushed over, wanting to see what had happened. 

It was clear his fellow Alpha smelt it as well, the ginger knight’s mismatched eyes squeezed shut for a moment as she paused.

Almost instinctively, he covered more of the younger’s body with his own. Which was kind of silly of him to do, he knew no one would wish any harm to him but… it was just his bodies natural instinct kicking up, urging him to protect the heated omega. 

“Fuck- is he-?” Claudia started, looking over the pathetic jumble of long limbs and sweat, and Garfield nodded in response. “Well shit, he kept  _ that _ a secret.” Claudia spoke.

“You, ahem. May want to take him somewhere more private ...?” Robbie urged, blue eyes gesturing over to the car. It wouldn’t be the most comfy place but it’d offer the most privacy. Garfield doubted his champ would want everyone standing over him, staring at him if he was more coherent, even if he loved everyone present. He’d probably be freaking out right now if he wasn’t so out of it. 

Garfield lifted the lanky young man with his strong arms. 

“I’m going to take care of him.” Garfield stated, because it wasn’t a well kept secret that just the mere presence of a trusted Alpha was all you needed to soothe an Omega when they were like this. 

Claudia nodded. “Yeah, know you will. Just shout us if you need anything.” Her stern yet concerned eyes stayed on Oscar’s prone frame as the pair walked away. 

With a little bit of a struggle, he managed to open the back door open and 

He sat down, and lifted Oscar’s head so it rested on his plush lap. His big hands swept sweat ridden curls away from his boys forehead. 

He was glad that he kept some spare blankets in the trunk of the car where they could be easily enough grabbed. He remembered hearing that omega’s liked stuff like that during this time… along with other things that brought a red flush to his old cheeks. He’d never force himself on the other,  _ of course he’d never _ , like how he knew some alphas would in his situation. 

But if Oscar wanted his help with that…. He wouldn’t say he’d be opposed. 

Garfield  _ liked _ him. 

And he’d be lying if he said he didn't feel the slightest hint of an oncoming rut, a result that couldn’t be helped because their situation. 

It didn’t take long for Oscar to stir, climbing into Garfield’s lap. With a newfound burst of confidence thanks to his hormones but still exhibiting moments of his classic nervousness, he begged Garfield exactly for  _ that.  _

A special kind of help.

“Are… ya’ sure, champ? 

With the most coherence he’d had on his face since his heat struck, Oscar lovingly spoke, his words serious to the core. 

“Henry Garfield- I want  _ you.”  _ He touched Garfield’s shoulders, desperate for skin on skin contact in his needy state. “ _ I love you.”  _ There was a hint of nervousness to his voice, not as much as Garfield would have expected 

“ _ Please- Please take me.” _ He begged into his ear, his eyebrows knitted, wrinkling his brow ever so slightly. 

When people said an Omega in heat was one of the most beautiful sights in the world, they weren’t half kidding. At the confirmation he went ahead and pulled Oscar into his arms, knowing that their love was mutual. He knew that this position would probably be pleasing for the younger man as well- what with his head now so close to Garfield’s own scent gland, taking in his own alpha smell. 

It was somewhat of a hassle to try and shift his own clothes off while still holding onto the smaller man, especially in the somewhat cramped space, but Garfield made it work- spurred on by the increasingly needy whine coming from Oscar and the smell flowers that made his head feel light.

His thick fingers slid down to Oscar’s hole, intent of preparing him but was reminded of the situation from the slickness his fingers met. Oh yeah, that was heat thing wasn’t it? 

Oscar’s back arched as he took Garfield’s length within him- this was  _ exactly _ what his body was begging for. He needed to be filled so bad. His flushed face nuzzled against the side of Garfield’s neck as he gasped. 

Garfield gripped down on bony hips while Oscar bounced on his lap, sliding up and down on him, his cute little moans filling the air. 

“P-please, Henry.  _ Make me yours-”  _ Oscar whined in his ear, before leaning his head back, still bobbing up and down- occasionally hitting that  _ special spot _ \- as he bared his neck. 

Sometimes an Alpha and Omega would just get a special sensation, a beautiful feeling- when they knew they were to be a pair. 

And Garfield knew- that this was  _ his boy.  _

He bit down on Oscar’s neck, right over his sweet scent gland- Officially marking him as his mate. 

Oh gosh. 

_ His mate! _

He kissed away the little beads of blood that dripped down, apologising softly to the smaller male. Oscar didn’t care. He was in too much of a bliss to think about anything over than how happy he was. 

It didn’t take long for him to cum, his seed splattering over his skinny tummy. Garfield not long after, his knot filling Oscar and leaving the brunette so satisfied. His bodies natural want to bred fulfilled, for now. It possibly wouldn’t be long before he needed  _ his mate’s _ help again.

  
  


Until then, they lay there, clinging to one another in the tight squeeze of the car’s seats, still connected by the knot, as they doze off to sleep.

  
  


From outside, Tapeworm turned to the rest of their group, confusion still evident on his young, handsome face. “But wait- I still don’t get it. I thought he was a Beta?!?”


	26. Mim/Flos (Lactation)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day twenty six: lactation
> 
> is girl time

Flos lamented the fact that it wasn’t within her own ability to knock her own wife up. 

Because she was absolutely the most  _ beautiful _ thing she had ever seen in her life. The tall woman glowed. There was a new sparkle in her eyes and her usual cheeriness had increased tenfold. She just wished that she had been the one to do that for her. 

The fact that Mim longed for a family was so obvious, even to those that barely knew her. You’d just have to look at all the strays (Flos, herself included) that she’d picked up over the years to be able to guess that. And while she wasn’t going to get rid of her found family any time soon, she was positively ecstatic about motherhood. 

It suited her. She was strong, yet soft. Protective and caring. 

Mim’s blue eyes lidded as she pursed her lips. “C’mon, Honeybee. What’cha thinking about that’s got you in such a mood?”

Flos looked down to Mim’s stomach and up to her gorgeous face again. 

It wouldn’t be the first time they’ve revisited this conversation topic. 

“Flos…. Don’t be silly. You do realize you’re gonna be the bumps Mommy too?” She grabbed the blonde’s calloused hands and placed them on the big swell of her belly. She still had a few months left to go- but she felt massive. She blamed that on the sheer size of the babies father. “You can’t keep moping about just because we had to get help with this, Flossyyyyyyyyyy.” She drew out. 

“I know. God, Viv. I know. Of course I’m gonna be here for you and the baby but… it’s hard.” She choked out, only feeling comfortable enough to share her insecurities with her girlfriend. Mim had worked with her for a long time to try and help her get over her inferiority complex and her anger. But it still showed it’s face from time to time. 

Mim threw her arms around the other, bending down as much as she could with how big her tummy was. Their difference in height basically resulted in Flos being engulfed in the larger woman’s chest. Not that she was complaining. 

Mim’s chest was soft and comforting- and had somehow managed to get even bigger as of late.

Flos blinked, feeling something wet against her chin. 

“Oh god dammit, not this again.” Mim huffed while she took a single step away, throwing her baggy t-shirt dress off and casting it to the rooms floor before it got any wetter. “Fucking stupid milk jugs keep staining my stuff!” She complained. 

Flos’ single eye trailed over the beautiful sight before her. Mim’s bare freckled flesh on near enough full display. Her engorged tits strained against the sports bra, and wet patches leaked through where she knew her nipples hid underneath. 

“Why does it keep leaking so much?” Flos asked, mouth dry. 

“Dunno- Think it’s already in proper baby mode and it’s freaking out because none of it’s getting used? Or something like that. Man I’d kill for a baby book!” The purple haired woman groaned. 

An idea popped into Flos’ mind. 

“Do…” She paused, squaring her broad shoulders. “Do you think I could help you out with that?” 

“Mmm. Dunno how- but knock yourself out, Honeybee! I’ll take any kinda relief I can get right about now.” Mim rubbed her chest. 

Flos reached her toned arms up and slipped the tight fitting bra away from Mim’s tits, pulling it over her head and crazy mane of hair to let it drop down with its fellow discarded clothing. 

As careful with her soft wife as she could be, she took hold of a breast and planted her lips around a nipple. She was the perfect height for it, just ever so slightly having to dip her head down for access. 

Almost immediately, she felt the thick creamy substance on her tongue. 

Man, Mim’s ba- Their baby, was going to be eating good if this was what it had to work with. 

Her tongue lapped up the milk that had already leaked out, and as soon as that was done and dusted, she gave an experimental suck. 

A thick stream of milk filled her mouth and she eagerly swallowed it down, the liquid wetting her parched throat. 

She used both hands to hold onto the large, swollen breasts and she continued suckling. The taste was addicting and she wanted to just keep on drinking. 

Gulp after gulp. She could hear the soft moans from Mim above as she dug a hand into her short, dishevelled locks, or at best as she could. There wasn’t a whole lot to grab. 

She broke away to breathe, gasping and panting before attacking the rest of Mim’s breast with her tongue, lapping up any milk that escaped her mouth. She knew there was some dribbling down her chin. She was almost as messy an eater as Mim herself, it seemed.

She ran her fingers of her burned hand over the soft flesh, sensitive skin meeting sensitive skin. She looked up, using her forearm to wipe her chin clean, the liquid catching on the fuzz that spread over the uninjured limb. 

“Do ya’ wanna get the other one too, now?” Mim asked, looking down to her girlfriend, a look of utmost relief visible on her freckled face. 


	27. Marco (Gun Play)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day twenty seven: gunplay
> 
> takes place sometime after the last chapter with marco. 
> 
> (ft mention of @babygrinch1399's Sylvia)

He hadn’t noticed the text message on his phone until the number next to it read thirty. 

Half an hour ago.

In a lot of situations that wouldn’t be so bad, but he saw the contact it came from. 

Don. 

Marco couldn’t keep him waiting- not if he wanted to continue being paid, having his own place, and being able to pay back his sister the money he owed. 

So he scrambled as fast as he could, throwing on a dark hoodie and a pair of shorts as fast as he could. 

He hadn’t had time to fill up on gas for his motorbike in the past few days- so he’d just have to settle for cycling the uphill climb to Don’s apartment. 

God fucking dammnit. 

He tied his shoe laces while smoking the very last of drawer of his cigarette, his leg bouncing as he was filled with nerves. He had been warned before that he shouldn’t waste the other man's time. 

Quickly, he locked the door to the shitty, overpriced hellhole he called a home (It reminded him of his childhood home with how rundown and crappy it was but there was a key difference between the two. It was  _ his.  _

Also, there was a significant lack of multiple people filling it to the brim like his old home. God, he was thankful to be rid of  _ that,  _ even if it wasn’t exactly his choice. )

With his headphones on blasting music, he unlocked the padlock to his bike and jumped on, starting the arduous task that was the journey to his employer’s home. Both of their house’s were on an uphill slope, and going up the way was torture, even moreso on his bike. At least for the most part of the route there was flat road, at least he had that. 

His calves were burning by the time he arrived at the tall, imposing building. Marco knew he must been sweaty as well but he had made it there a whole five minutes quicker than it usually took him. He quickly jogged up the stairs- he knew taking the lift would have been quicker, but he had been stuck in one of the things once as a kid and it put him off the things for life. Besides, he was a sporty guy. He didn't mind the extra burn. 

Out of nowhere, he was shoved against the wall, his headphones fell from his head and cracked against the floor. A larger body pressed against his own. 

He felt cold steel press into the underside of his jaw. 

“I heard you’re wanting out of this, boy. Out of our arrangement. Now, please tell me  _ why _ exactly I didn’t hear this from you, personally, mhm?” Don spoke, his tone cold as he dug his gun into Marco’s flesh. 

Marco gulped, sweat dripping down his forehead. “Don- I dunno what you mean- I don’t want out!” He spat out frantically, though it was hard with the pressure coming from the weapon. 

“No? Then why was I paid a visit from your sister-in-law?” 

Oh  _ shit.  _ His breath hitched in his throat- he knew that she had some kind of awareness about what he  _ did ( _ she was there that night this all began, afterall) but he didn’t ask her to do that. He didn’t want  _ out.  _ He was being paid good- and this really didn’t seem like something you could just put in a letter of resignation to and be off on your way. 

Marco knew as well just how fierce Sylvia could be when pissed off, and it seemed like Don wasn’t exactly a fan. God, he only hoped that she hadn’t told his sister. He didn’t want to think about her knowing where he got the money to pay her back from. 

“I would like a response.” 

“D-Don, I  _ swear.  _ That had nothing to do with me, okay?” He was really starting to freak out, knowing the other man it was unlikely that the handgun wasn’t loaded. He knew that Don didn’t have the same reservations and limits as he himself did. If he wanted to squeeze his finger around the trigger and blow his brains out,  _ he would.  _ “If I was really fucking off why would I have shown up?” 

Don let out a hum, as he thought it over. He dragged the gun up, Marco letting out a gasp as it left his neck alone. That may have not been the best idea, as the older man took advantage of the open mouth- he slid the weapon straight in between teeth, muzzle nestling against tonsils. Marco almost gagged, but he couldn't do anything with the larger body pinning him against the wall.

“I’m sure you remember our agreement when we first started this arrangement? You please me, I pay you. Just as long as you don’t get in the way of my own business. This? You running your mouth about it to people I work with? Gets in the way of that.” He snarled. “So do us both a favour and be more discreet in the future, yes?” 

Marco nodded as best as he could, tears leaking from his green eyes. 

“So next time they ask, tell them you’ve stopped. But you and I both know that’s a lie. Because when I call for you, you  _ better come running.” _

“Okay- I swear!” He replied, barely audible due to being muffled through the barrel that filled his mouth, a dribble of saliva escaping out through his lips to leave a trail down his chin. 

“Very good, I knew I could count on you, Flores.” Don replied, sliding his gun out of Marco’s mouth with an audible pop. He grabbed a handful of the brunette’s hoodie and wiped his weapon clean with the soft, worn down cotton.

Wordlessly, he backed off from the brunette and walked over to his door, clicking it open and stepping in without a care, almost like he hadn’t just threatened to murder someone. 

His boss frightened him, but he just had to work extra hard to make sure he never pissed him off like this again. 

“Clean yourself up and meet me in the bedroom. Don’t keep me waiting.” Don called back, leaving the door open for Marco to make his own journey in. His shoulders shook and he raised his sleeve up, trying to wipe dry his face, wet with tears and spittle, to the best of his abilities- before stepping into the penthouse for another night of work. 

  
  



	28. Broket (Stripping)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day twenty eight: stripping/ striptease
> 
> i wanted to get atleast 31k words written for this month and with this- ive hit my target ;7; yay! 
> 
> nearly done which is so weird like theres only a few days left but it doesnt feel like a whole month has gone by 
> 
> anyways, enjoy some more star war 
> 
> (valee is babygrinch1399's chara)

Broket didn’t mind helping out Valee when it came to bounties and missions. 

It was the least he could do after the starlight haired woman picked him up and gave a new meaning to his life.

But he really wished that he had the other role in this. 

“Surely  _ you  _ could have pretended to be the dancer?” The zabrak complained as they sat in their ship, docked somewhere secure not a long walk away from their destination for tonight. 

A club- with the widest selection of goods you could find in this side of the galaxy. And also where the man Valee had been tracking down the past few weeks had been rumoured to have been hiding out. 

“Because, baby-” Valee started, wrapping a long black shawl over her head, a common piece of fashion for the denizens of this planet. “I’m too recognisable- the second our target catches sight of me he’s gonna run off.” She flexed her robotic arm before covering it in a long, gray glove. 

She had a point- you just needed a glimpse of white hair, light eyes and metal arm to know who you were dealing with. Whereas unless you got close enough to see some of his smaller tattoos- and knew enough of zabrak culture to know what they meant, you wouldn’t think very much of Broket at all. 

That didn’t make him like this any more though. 

With a resigned sigh, the young adult dropped his tunics to the ground and slipped into the pathetic pieces of fabric that were adorned by the entertainment in the establishment 

“Besides- I’ve seen your fancy Jedi Kotas, they’re pretty much dancing anyway.” She waved away, not caring that she said the completely incorrect thing- more bothered with pinning the drapey black fabrics over herself. 

“ _ Katas.”  _ Broket supplied as tried sorting the outfit out. There was so many holes that he wasn’t exactly sure that he had it on the right way. He knew he had his limbs in the right holes though- thankfully helped out by golden hoops that clasped shut, securing the loose fabric to his ankles. 

“Yeah- those. Whatever, I’m just saying you’ve probably got enough grace to pull this off.” 

“Just as long as know one pays too close attention.” He said, rubbing glitter over his tattooed body- it would help him fit in apparently. His fingers trailed over his most recent tattoos and the pale brown scars that refused to budge from his lower stomach. Hopefully they wouldn’t be too noticeable in the darker lighting. 

“Don’t you worry- I’m gonna be right by you. No one else is gonna get too close. Just stick to the plan, alright?”

He nodded- pulling on the modesty layers that he knew where just gonna come off later on in the night. It was all darks- like he’d raided Valee’s closet and not just a former dancer. 

-

People of all genders and races were gathered in the wide, darkly lit room. Some at the bar in the centre, others in booths and tables all over the place. It was nicer than a majority of cantinas he’d seen- but he knew that appearances don't mean everything. Some of the most serious criminal activities had probably had something to do with this establishment at some point. 

They were sat in a booth themselves, sipping on drinks and trying to keep alert of their surroundings. 

He looked up to see Valee’s eyes. Glaring at something in the distance and following it. She swirled her drink in it’s glass- a sign to go. 

He nodded, and trying to channel the spirits of the rest of the dancers here, he sauntered over, immediately catching sight of their target. He repositioned the weird, foriegn clothes so that some more of his tanned flesh showed through, hopefully tantalising enough that the man wanted a proper look.

He knew Valee had at the very least 4 blasters on her and that soothed his mind, but he wished he had his saber on him as he approached the man. Human, middle aged, involved in crimes against one of Valee’s associates. 

“Would you like a dance, handsome…?” He asked, the words feeling so foreign on his lips as he stood there, swaying his hips as he brushed a hand up against a clothed arm. His amber eyes looked up in a mockery of shyness.

He looked over him like a slab of meat. He tried not to shiver. 

“Sure thing, you’ll do.” He downed the rest of his drink and let Broket lead him away by the hand to the unoccupied booth right next to where he and Valee had been. 

The man all but collapsed in his seat and snapped his fingers, motioning for Broket to get to work already. He swayed his shoulders in time to the music coming from the centre of the room, his hands raising up to gracefully unclasp the jewel that held the largest piece of fabric over him, the dark caplet falling to the ground to be kicked away. 

The rest of the layers of the thin fabric followed suit, being dropped without a care as more of his kaf coloured skin was being exposed. The man's eyes were predatory as he watched hungrily. 

It wasn’t long before he was down to the weird pair of harem pants- the fabric was black yet translucent, and each side sported a hole that exposed his thighs and calves. It was held onto his body by a golden, metal belt, a long roll of fabric fell down over his crotch, awarding him with the last piece of modesty he had. 

The man patted his lap and Broket gulped before climbing on, straddling the man's thighs. Through the metal grid that seperated the booths, he came face to face with Valee. The man's eyes were closed in pleasure as his palms roamed Broket’s thin but toned body. 

He gave Valee the sign. 

Then he called upon the force to hold the man in place, frozen in his spot while Valee calmy spoke, getting up and stepping over to their booth. 

“Well, fancy meeting you here.” She said, slipping into the seat across from him, letting her face covering slip ever so slightly.

He continued dancing, feeling the stale air of the club on his bare skin- for should he stop he may arouse suspicion from the other patrons. 

It wasn’t that hard to get him to sing like a bird, what with him recognising Valee and being backed up into a corner. At the flash of blasters, he babbled on- giving the pair all the juicy details they desired.

“Do your stuff, kid.” Valee spoke, lighting up a cigarette to smoke while she leaned back in her seat, her covered legs spread wide. 

He wasn’t the best with mind tricks- he never got the hang of them completely and he could never do any of the more complex manipulations. But he was sure that the man wouldn’t remember the past few minutes, or at the very least- he wouldn’t speak about them to anyone. 

They sent him on his way, happy with the much needed information they had gained tonight, and settled on going back home to their ship. This place was kinda overpriced, if Valee was honest. She didn’t want to stick around much longer. 

She picked up the large piece of fabric that had been discarded on the ground and draped it over Broket’s shoulders. He was thankful for it, evident by this way his hands tightened it around his exposed body. 

“C’mon, lets get outta here.” 

  
  
  



	29. Mat (Glory Hole)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day twenty nine: glory hole

They had gotten a gig recently- their little band. Nothing big- just getting to play their set somewhere in town. But The Cherry Breakers hadn’t had much luck in the past few weeks getting their foot in any doors lately, so they jumped on the chance for this. It had went well enough. They played their songs and got a good enough reaction out of the crowd.

This wasn’t the first time Mat had been here- god. There probably wasn’t a club in their city that he hadn’t stuck his nose into yet, 

Both he and Reese sat at a bar, their third member off dancing in the crowd, though Reese was more intent on chatting with the woman serving them, rather than watch as Mat practically vibrated on his stool. His fingers drummed against the tabletop and his leather clad leg bounced. 

He had snorted a line not long before coming out here- but he’d been needing to take it more frequently as of late, stepping up from just once or twice a week to feeling freaked out when it had been a few hours in between each hit. 

It had an obvious effect on his body- he had started out quite slim but now he was practically a bundle of bones with pale skin stretched over them. The little weight he had on him practically melted away- He didn’t exactly hide that, even though he’d seen people grimace at just how slight he was. He flaunted his body with tight clothes, sheer fabrics and ragged crop tops that he had most likely took a pair of scissors to himself. Even today, all he had on his body were his dark leather pants that clung to him like a second skin, a collar hanging around his neck and his stompy platform boots. (He stopped getting taller about ten years ago- so they were a necessity) 

Not exactly a modest outfit. 

He spun around and hopped off his chair- telling the blonde drummer that he had to go take a piss. She responded with a tilt of an annoyed eyebrow. They both knew exactly what he was going to get up to. 

He bobbed his way through the crowds of people dancing on the floor (Not that he knew how- the fucker that was playing right now was garbage) and arrived at his destination. There was no one in the blue lit bathroom and for that, he silently celebrated. He didn’t want to listen to the sound of piss hitting porcelain right now, if he was quite honest. 

He made for the very last stall and slammed the door behind him, clicking the lock shut. He made himself at home- pushing the toilet seat down and taking a seat while he pulled out his phone. And squeezed into a slot in the phone case the very thing he was craving. A little plastic baggie filled with white. 

It didn’t take him long to get to work- feeling the buzz of euphoria that washed over him and made shake like he was filled with bees- but in a good way. He heard the sound of the door open and someone make their way to the toilet, so he tried to quiet himself down when he snorted the next line. 

“You in there?” A voice called out from the next stall over. 

He blinked. 

“Yeah..?” Mat responded, rubbing his nose, only just now noticing the rudimentary hole in between the two of them. 

Huh. 

His legs were both shaking as he sat on the lidded toilet, his dilated eyes with the teal barely visible stared at the cock protruding through the hole. 

Fuck it- he’s sucked cock before. He slid down onto his knees on the most likely filthy ground and quickly flung his phone onto the toilet seat’s lid so he could place both hands on the wall of the stall. 

Without a care, he licked a long line up the length of the mysterious cock until his black painted lips reached the head. He pressed a kiss to the salty flesh before taking in the length in his mouth. 

It was thick enough to shut him up- by now he’d probably be babbling his thoughts to himself or to anyone that’d listen. And as the man on the other side thrust his hips he could feel the tip make itself known with his tonsils. 

He could hear the music from outside the door, the song finally switched to something that, at the very least from here, sounded way better. There was a bunch of scribbles and words written on the wall around where his mouth was plastered. The man was breathing heavily, sometimes letting out quiet grunts when Mat swirled his tongue along the underside of the cock or hollowed his cheeks. He wondered if this guy liked the feeling on his piercing, the cool metal rubbing against warmed flesh. The last time he sucked cock the guy freaked out, saying he didn’t like it. 

In his opinion he thought it seemed like it’d probably feel nice, so he didn’t know what that guy’s deal was. 

Well, whatever, he seemed to be liking it, so mystery bathroom man was way cooler. 

He could feel his face wetten, as spit drooled out from around the dick and tears streamed down his face, marring his cheeks with runny black. An involuntary reflex of having his throat fucked. The guys pace fastened and Mat let out a deep moan around the length. 

It wasn’t long after that that Mat’s throat was filled with hot seed, the man groaning as he climaxed. He pulled his cock free from both holes and Mat leaned back against the other wall, one arm supporting his weight on the toilet seat, accidentally knocking his phone to the ground. His other hand reached up to wipe away the cum and spit that escaped his maw.   
Dilated eyes watched as a crumpled up twenty was pushed through the hole, the sandy blonde’s chest heaving as he tried to readjust to breathing with his mouth again.


	30. Mat/Vincent (Stockings)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day thirty: stockings/tights/pantyhose
> 
> Last day of proper prompts :'( just the free choice one and were done 
> 
> Vincent belongs to @babygrinch1399 and this takes place sometime after his matvin chapter

“Alright, I can get your reasoning with the corset, that made sense. But what gives with the socks?” 

Mat looked up from where he was sat on their shared bed to see Vincent enter the room, a towel wrapped around his toned waist, his hair and body still damp from the shower. They both weren’t long back from a mission. He was in as equal of a state of undress, just chilling in his boxers and of course, the pair of black socks, that spanned the length of his thick legs and squished the fleshy meat of his thighs.

“Shit’s comfy, used to wear ‘em all the time.” He shrugged before leaning back on his elbows, rubbing his calves together. “How? You gonna react like  _ last time _ , eh?” Mat waggled his eyebrows as he recalled that night, making Vincent snort as he approached, sitting down on the bed with him.

“Yeah, you wish. Horny bastard.” 

“Hey- You’re just as bad as me and you know it!” Mat rebutted, sitting up forward. He didn’t miss the way Vincent’s eyes glanced down to watch the way his soft stomach shifted as he moved. 

“Nah- don’t know what you’re talking about.” The dark haired man smirked, closing in on the distance between them. 

"Yeah, I'm sure you don't." Mat chuckled, leaning forward to brush their lips together. They shifted into a familiar routine for then- with Mat crawling onto Vincent's lap.

His thick thighs surrounded Vincent's own as they made out, and the darker haired man's hands roamed his soft body, over his still strong chest to his 

It made Vincent groan into the kiss, thinking about how he did all that. He had fattened up his partner. 

Finally his hands rested on the strip of upper thigh still showing- squeezing the flesh in between his strong fingers. They lowered, he fingered the right gap in between leg and fabric and rose an eyebrow.

" _ Damn _ ." Vincent moaned deeply. " _ You really squeezed yourself into these, huh?"  _ Mat was gonna kill him one of these days, surprising him with unexpected pieces of fashion. He resorted to pulling the fabric up from where it started rolling down- and let it snap back into digging into chubby meat. 

The towel he had protecting his modesty had slipped away, revealing his hardening cock to his partner who grinned, breathing heavily. 

"Well- who's fault is that? They used to fit me fine." Mat whispered into his ear, not missing the way Vincent's cock twitched at his words.

_ "Fuck."  _ He ran his hands up and down the expanse of his wide upper legs- enjoying the feeling of it shifting from goosebumps skin to soft, elegant lycra. 

He shifted- he was strong and despite his chubbiness, Mat was still short enough that Vincent could pick him up- And that was exactly what he did- repositioning themselves so that Mat was bent over the bed. 

As Vincent was pulling Mat's boxers off, they graying man turned his head around- grinning. 

"I fucking knew this would be like last time." He chuckled, ready to get his brains fucked out. 


	31. Marco (Any Combo- Omorashi + Humilation + Impact Play)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day thirty one: any combination of previous prompts
> 
> Well it's done! Thank you everyone that's read/left kudos- it means a whole lot to me and I can't believe I've nearly got 3k hits, its such a huge compliment that people are interested enough in my ocs to give this a bash ;_; this was a stressful month but I had a lot of fun- will be back at this again next year!
> 
> And a thank you to @babygrinch1399 for letting me use some of his characters, love yaaa 
> 
> But for now- have some piss slut indulgence <3

Marco was beginning to regret chugging that bottle of water before entering the apartment. 

He had so desperately needed it then- the boiling hot weather and the physical exhaustion from the journey over made his throat feel like the Sahara desert- and he didn't want to go in facing Don a complete total state. 

It was a different story about twenty minutes later, while he was on all fours on the fine silken bed sheets, being pounded by his employer himself. He could feel his bladder 

"Could we stop a minute?" He moaned, feeling Don's thick cock slam against his prostate. He blinked trying to stop the stars from clouding his vision. "I gotta go ta-" 

"We'll stop when  _ I'm done."  _ Don interrupted him, his pace not stopping or even slowing at all. Marco was his to use during these hours, that's what he paid him for. He didn't get a say on how things were done. 

Marco clenched the silk between his fingers, brow furrowed as he tried to ignore the shooting pangs coming from his bladder- making his back twinge. Not that Don cared or noticed- he was intent on enjoying  _ himself. _

  
  


He couldn't help the sob that bubbled up in his throat as he felt his resolve finally give out, as the first little dribble escaped from the head of his cock. That small sensation of relief was all His body needed to involuntary open the flood gates. His hot piss leaked out, leaving his thighs and the bed below soaking. He was vaguely aware of the feeling of Don pulling out and making noises of disgust.

A ringed hand grabbed his cropped brunette locks, pushing his face down onto the wet patch on the bed with a great mighty force. He twisted his grip, making the grimacing, upset face dig into his own piss. The smell was horrid- and he tried his best not to gag in between his shaky sobs as the younger man tried desperately to shake himself free. 

"You dirty fucking whore- look at  _ what you've done."  _ Don fumed, pressing Marco's head down lower. 

Breathing was becoming hard from how just how much he was crying- his breath would get caught on a sob and leave him frantically trying to air in his lungs. 

" _ I-I'm s-so-sorry!"  _ He panted, uncharacteristically stuttering. God- he'd never felt this embarrassed in his whole life-threatening he just wanted to curl up and die right now. 

"Yeah- you'll be sorry." He shouted, not letting Marco budge. " _ Clean it up."  _

_ "You know how to use your tongue. Get to it."  _ He snarled, making Marco tremble even more as the sound of his sobs and gasps filled the air. He resigned himself to his fate and opened his mouth, slowly edging out the organ to the wet patch on the silk. He tried to jerk back at the taste of it on his mouth but Don's grip was to much for him to be able to resist. 

"Stand there and don't mess anything else up or gods help you,  _ you'll regret it."  _

He knew better than to piss him off when he was already in a foul mood. Don was a frightening man. 

He stood up, completely bare on the cold wooden floor. Both his cheeks and thighs wet for different reasons as he felt completely useless. Don was quick to pull his trousers back up, though the belt continued hanging limply through the loops unbuckled, he was working away, audibly fuming as he stripped his sheets away from the bed and took them away to go with the rest of his laundry.

When he was done he stood in front of Marco. There was a few inches of difference in their height but that felt like miles considering how small Marco felt right now. The man stared at him, annoyance still written clear as day on his face. 

Without warning his raised his hand up, the one adorned with rings, and smacked Marco's face. The force of it caused his head to jerk to the side and a pathetic cry to bubble up from his throat. 

He hit him thrice more, but Marco didn't dare do anything more than flinch and cry. He'd seen Don kill people- he'd threatened to  _ kill him before.  _ He didn't want that. 

So he stood and took the hits, even when Don stopped and so painfully slowly pulled the belt out where it uselessly hung from his waist. Marco braced himself as the leather whipped through the air and whacked his chest. He let out a yowl when it struck down again- hitting his rosy nipple. Don continued on venting his frustration this way until he stopped and turned away, throwing the leather to the ground.

"Do not make this a habit- because I won't warn you again."

Nodding, he knew he must have been a state- his face and body felt like they were burning where he had been struck. If he wasn't already covered in bruises he would be soon.

  
  


"You can leave now." Don called behind him, not even casting a glance towards the brunette. 

He made a move to go to the bathroom to clean himself up but Don interrupted him. 

_ "I said you can leave." _

He bent down with a wince to collect his discarded clothes and mentally prepared himself for a long, embarrassing journey home.


End file.
